


Heart Exchange

by jaskiersvalley (connorssock)



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Beads, Anal Fingering, Anal Fisting, Anal Sex, Angst, BDSM, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Biting, Bottom Jaskier | Dandelion, But not between Geralt/Jaskier, Caning, Collars, Condoms, Dating, Developing Relationship, Dom Jaskier | Dandelion, Dom/sub, Drinking, Drunk Sex, Feelings Realization, Figging, First Kiss, Fisting, Flogging, Fluff, Frottage, Get Together, Impact Play, Implied Puppy Play, Inflation, Kink Negotiation, Kissing, Light Bondage, M/M, Minor Injuries, Past Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Praise Kink, Prostate Milking, Rimming, Safeword Use, Sex Before Feelings, Sex Is Fun, Sex Toys, Shibari, Showers, Slow Burn, Sounding, Sub Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Subdrop, Subspace, Therapy, Top Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, safe sex, thigh riding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:29:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 78,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23250973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/connorssock/pseuds/jaskiersvalley
Summary: When Yennefer announced she had found herself a sub to go exclusive with, Geralt was left with few options but to follow her advice and go to a club to get what he needed. He didn't anticipate meeting Jaskier who was so very different to any dom he'd been with before. It was only natural that Geralt pushed the limits.
Relationships: Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach/Lambert/Eskel, Eskel/Lambert (The Witcher), Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 1002
Kudos: 2084





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Tags will be updated as things develop but all major tags are already in place. Expect a lot of kink exploration and feel free to suggest kinks as we go along.

As most things in Geralt’s life, his arrangement with Yennefer wasn’t perfect. But it scratched the itch he had and Yennefer got a kick out of it too. She pushed him to his limits, made him hurt with whips and restraints without hesitation, put him in his place and sometimes even denied him relief for days on end but not before working him up over and over again. It was what he deserved, the most anybody had been willing to give him. But, like everything else, it had to come to an end. Yennefer had found someone better to play with, someone who wanted to go exclusive. So Geralt got dropped quicker than a hot potato. He left that pseudo relationship with an address to a club that Yennefer thought he could meet a new dom who could meet his needs.

At first, he had resisted the idea, content to think he could manage without such play in his life. But the urge was there. Geralt wanted to submit. He’d never hit the mythical floating headspace but it did help him relax, not having to worry about control for a change. So he caved. Dressed in a simple black button down and dark jeans, Geralt drove two cities over, not wanting to run even the risk of bumping into colleagues or patients.

The club was a high end type of affair, sleek and artfully lit, exactly the kind of place Yennefer would have been at home in. And Geralt felt so out of place. Which was kind of the expected. He wasn’t some piece of art that Yennefer had always craved. No sleek beauty or graceful submissive. It had been a point of contention, the soft chiding from Yennefer, her constant disappointment. While Geralt had agreed that humiliation could be part of their play, he hadn’t really enjoyed it, merely existed through it for the sake of Yen who seemed to take such delight in it. Not once did either of them truly stop to think how mismatched they were. They checked in every now and then, but they both got a climax out of it so assumed things were going okay.

Inside, the club was split up into segments, comfortable looking sofas where some people were sat, others kneeling by their feet. Geralt’s eyes lingered on them before moving to scope the other groups and pairs. There were people by the bar, alone and scanning the room like he was. A few eyes lingered on him, especially those who looked eager to be dominated. When they saw the thin, green band that had been wrapped around his wrist at the entrance, how it matched their own, some looked disappointed while others perked up.

Ordering a drink, Geralt sat in a darker corner, settling in to watch. There seemed to be an order to things. Mostly people were in groups or pairs, there for a social time rather than blatant sexual contact. At least, that was his first impression, until he spotted people getting up and leaving in the same direction at a constant rate. Which was when Geralt realised he was in what was basically the front lobby where people met, discussed interests before retiring to a playroom towards the back. It made Geralt curious but not enough to get up. Especially not when someone with a yellow band slipped into the seat opposite him, giving him a smirk.

“Here looking for a great time?”

It wasn’t a great time. Barely even good. The guy seemed far too into slapping him and taking delight at having someone so large at his mercy. Sure, they both ended up getting off, but Geralt still went home with an empty feeling in his chest and convinced he was not enough for more than a quick, dirty fuck.

Despite the underwhelming experience, he was back at the club a few weeks later, craving to be controlled. As before, he settled with a drink, made eye contact with a couple of people, his green wristband showing.

“You don’t seem the kind to submit willingly,” a woman smiled sharply at him.

“It depends on who it is,” Geralt shot back and she laughed. There wasn’t anything pleasant about it. But she wanted a challenge, someone to rebel and he could easily do that, slip into the image of what she wanted. Negotiations were quick, as long as there were no bruises or hindering injuries, Geralt said yes to everything.

It was a longer play session, the woman really wanted to take him down a peg or two, had him kneeling and beaten by the end, hand fisted in Geralt’s hair as she allowed him to rut against her foot while she spewed humiliating insults. He came, dick making a mess that she made him clean up with his tongue. At the end of their scene, the few people who had watched clapped and Geralt shrugged off any care offered, claiming he was fine.

The foulest of moods took him for the next couple of days and he swore he would never return to the club. But he had needs and Yennefer no longer wanted to play. So he found himself back at the club over and over again, willing to be used and abused as his partner of the evening wished. It earned him a bit of a reputation as someone who was game for anything and needed minimal care afterwards - something people craved if they only wanted a quick fuck and nothing more.

Another night, another drive and Geralt had settled in what had become his corner of the club. A few people had already spotted him but he wasn’t ready to play yet, not quite in the mood to be controlled. There were a few familiar faces but not many, Geralt wasn’t really there to make friends. But someone caught his eye. Judging from his demeanour and attire, he had to be another sub. Too bright, too cheery and beautiful to be anything but the treasure pet of someone. Probably already claimed and pampered too. Not that Geralt wanted that kind of contact, he was too much of a brute to be cherished like that. His face remained passive when the man turned and threw him a wide, beaming smile and raised a hand. A red wristband took Geralt by surprise - a dom then. He felt a bit foolish for being surprised because if anyone looked at him, they would think he’d have a red wristband. Maybe the yellow of a switch if pushed. So who was he, to judge others on their preferences versus their appearance?

There were a couple of people who approached Gerlat but he either straight up ignored them or told them he wasn’t interested. He couldn’t figure out why. The bright and animated man had his attention even though he knew he would never be what the other could possibly want. Another dom slipped into the seat opposite him.

“Whatever it is, you can do it but make it quick. I want to get off then go home,” Geralt snapped.

It was as quick as it was brutal. Geralt didn’t notice the eyes following him when he went into one of the playrooms and he most certainly didn’t care enough to even remember them on the way out not long later.

Back at the club not long after, Geralt sat in his corner, brooding. He wasn’t sure why he was there again so soon, the last time had taken him a couple of days to recover from, he still wasn’t 100% comfortable sitting but he was back. So was the bright and cheerful man from the last time. They eyed each other up, Geralt passive while he got a wide smile in return. Their eyes kept straying to each other, neither of them flitting away at the embarrassment of being caught. Not until they were staring at each other again and the man raised a hand at Geralt, his red wristband on show and crooked a finger, beckoning him.

Usually, Geralt preferred it when people went to him. Then he knew there was a low chance of rejection. But an invitation like that, part of him fought at the idea of being so controlled that he had to go begging for scraps of attention. Despite his misgivings, he still got up, but only after taking a leisurely time to finish his drink. Before getting up, he cast another look at the man who cocked an impatient eyebrow at him. Well then, two could play the game.

Pushing away from the table, Geralt made a show of swaggering over, intent on not taking crap from such a cheeky dom. He saw how the other gave him a good once over while still talking to whoever it was keeping him company that night. No bands which meant they weren’t there to play freely. Curious. Maybe this guy was new to the scene or was on a rebound, neither of which ideas filled Geralt with a lot of confidence. He refused to break the silence, stubborn and unrepentant. What Geralt didn’t expect was for his stand to be met with a smile filled with absolute delight. A hand reached out, not to feel his muscles or grope his chest as most people had done before, but rather, a finger playfully twirled his hair, so careful not to pull before the same hand gently guided him by the shoulder. Nobody seemed to be paying any attention as Geralt was carefully manoeuvred next to the dom and settled onto his knees as if it was an everyday occurrence.

Chairs were pulled around after a few more minutes, the dom Geralt was kneeling by had a soft voice that carried without effort. He made jokes, bossed people around and got teased for it but he never moved from his spot next to Geralt, his hand resting lightly in his hair.

“Thank you, Priscilla,” he trilled when a comfortable looking armchair was shoved his way. A squeeze to Geralt’s shoulder stilled him and he turned to watch the man pull the seat into position. This time, rather than the soft golds, he was dressed in a vibrant blue that brought out his eyes. Not that Geralt was looking at things like that. He was merely curious about the man. Easily, he hopped into the chair from the side and reached for Geralt while still laughing about whatever they were talking about. Oddly, Geralt found he didn’t feel the need to pay attention. Not when he had been positioned so his head was resting against the man’s surprisingly warm thigh and a hand was carding through his hair.

An immeasurable amount of time passed and Geralt had no idea what was going on. This wasn’t what he had come out for but at the same time he was relaxing incrementally under the soft pass of fingers through his hair. It quieted his mind, knowing he didn’t have to do anything.

“Well,” the man whose thigh he had been resting against spoke up. “I’ve got a busy week but I should be back next week on Thursday.”

The words registered somewhere in Geralt’s mind and he realised that the soft touch had changed tempo, brought him back into the world even though he had never left it. Raising his head from the thigh, Geralt blinked and was given a brilliant smile again. The people around them were leaving, the group heading to their various destinations and Geralt nodded at the strange dom who seemed to only want to stroke his hair while Geralt knelt by his feet.

Getting up, they shared one more look before Geralt was leaving. It was only when he got in his car that he realised a couple of things:

  1. They didn’t have sex
  2. He didn’t know they guy’s name
  3. Was the comment about being back on Thursday a hint?



Deciding not to worry about it too much, Geralt made his way home, feeling more relaxed than he ever had before. Even after a good session with Yen, he had never felt quite so floaty. The feeling lasted all evening and Geralt got some of the best sleep he had in a long long time. He didn’t even struggle to nod off, his head hit his pillow, the lights were turned off and he was out.


	2. Chapter 2

Thursday found Geralt back at the club. He ordered a drink and settled in his corner, eyes scanning the room for the man from before. His green wristband was hidden for now, covered by the sleeve of his shirt. On a whim, he had dressed a little nicer, still black and comfortable but there was a slight sheen to this shirt which caught the light nicely. Or so he thought. Why he even bothered to dress to, well, not quite impress but whatever, was beyond him. It was too late to change back now. Though he could always go find someone else to sort him out or leave before the other man arrived.

Too late. Geralt had eyes on the door and he saw the moment the guy stepped through, his red jacket would have looked garish on anyone else. On him, it was just right. As much as Geralt wanted to hide in his corner and observe, bright blue eyes met his across the room and there was no question about Geralt slinking off. However, the man’s path took him to the bar first, ordering a drink that looked suspiciously like plain sparkling water. Glass in hand, he walked over, smile as broad as all the previous times.

“I wasn’t sure whether you’d come back and brood in your corner tonight,” he said, the first words he’d ever actually addressed to Geralt. And Geralt had nothing to say to that so he raised his glass to his lips and stared over the brim. It didn’t seem to deter the other man who just matched him with a stare of his own and delicately sipped his own drink.

This was utterly pointless, Geralt softly growled into his glass and was wondering whether he should just leave and never return when the man spoke up. “If you want to play, I have some strict ground rules I need to be certain you will abide by.”

“I doubt it’s anything I’ve not done before,” Geralt glibly brushed him off. “But name them if they make you feel better.”

Something akin to displeasure flickered through the man’s face but it disappeared as quickly as it marred his features. “I couldn’t help but notice that a couple of weeks ago you went to play but refused all aftercare. Asking around, you seem to be quite happy to forgo even the most basic of care you’re offered.”

Shrugging, Geralt didn’t understand why this was being pointed out. It was quite creepy if he thought about it. “I just want a good fuck, don’t need any of the frills and shit. People prefer it like that.”

“I’m afraid, with me, that’s not up for debate. If we play, you will be given the appropriate aftercare until I deem it safe for us both to go our way.”

So this guy had some weird kink about care. Fine. Geralt could suffer that if it meant he got fucked within an inch of his life. Nodding, he brushed off the request as something not worth worrying about. He could humour the guy if he put his dick to good use. No doubt the novelty of babying him would wear off soon anyway and then they could maybe get to the point of just fucking then leaving.

“Good. I also don’t have intercourse with anyone who hasn’t been tested. If you wish to play with other people, that is fine but then we’ll always use protection and be extra cautious. I tend to have just one sub at a time and have already been tested.”

That was a bit of a dampener, Geralt had been hoping he could get bent over something and screwed into a stupor. Instead, he gritted out that he’d get tested.

“I don’t expect you to go exclusive, I just want you to be honest with me.” Which was easy enough. If they ended up having sex regularly, it would be enough to sate Geralt, he wouldn’t need anyone else. Assuming they worked out.

He was graced with another smile for nodding and had to wonder whether this was a kink for the guy. However, he was talking again so Geralt paid attention. “Is there anything you want to ask me? Or have any limits?”

“No bruises or hindering injuries and we’re good,” he rumbled. If it was something that surprised the guy, he didn’t say anything, merely nodded thoughtfully.

“No bruises whatsoever? Or are lovebites okay?”

Nobody had ever tried to leave lovebites across Geralt’s skin. He’d been scratched and bitten before, caned and flogged, tied up so harshly his limbs went numb. “No visible bruises. I work in short sleeves and can’t wear a scarf.” That was all he was going to say about work, he wasn’t there to share about his personal life, he was there to get off.

“Of course. Thank you for clarifying.” There was something infuriatingly pleasant about him and Geralt wondered whether he should have asked for a name. He didn’t get a chance as the man nodded as if his mind was made up. “I won’t take a new sub into a playroom for a few sessions at least. But I’m happy to have you kneeling for me if you would like.”

Not quite what Geralt had been hoping for. Actually, scratch that, it was absolutely not what he wanted but he would take what he could. Last week hadn’t been so bad, maybe he could get a bit of rest, even if his dick never got involved. Draining the last of his glass, he put it down and made to slip off the bench to crawl towards the other man, most doms seemed to like that. So when a hand came up to stop him, he didn’t understand.

“We’ll move somewhere a little more comfortable.” A hand was offered to Geralt and he mutely took it, allowing himself to be led across the room to a secluded armchair that was on some plush rugs and near one of the big pipes radiating heat. Gracefully, his dom sank on the chair and let his legs splay wide in invitation. One that Geralt took up without much hesitation, it wasn’t the first time he knelt for someone. As soon as he was in place, the hand was in his hair again, petting idly with a softly breathed, “thank you, sweetheart” which was all sorts of jarring, Geralt wasn’t a sweetheart or any other sweet endearment.

It didn’t matter though because Geralt could grunt and closed his eyes, pretending it didn’t happen. There was some movement around him, he heard some hushed voices but he could not pay attention. Whoever it was had disappeared and a few minutes later there was the clink of some glasses being set down. Blessed silence engulfed them. The hand in his hair slowed and Geralt looked up, surprised to see that the other man had his head tipped back against the wall, eyes closed. His movements, however, disturbed him and he looked down with a few soft blinks and the stroking resumed again.

“Need a drink?” At Geralt’s nod, a cool glass was offered up. “It’s just water. Rohypnol has a salty taste and I don’t want you thinking I’d hurt you.”

Trust was not something Geralt had and he turned his head from the glass instinctively. He wasn’t going to let anyone get the drop on him with such a dumb ploy.

“I’ll order my own.” He pretended not to see the sadness in the gaze directed at him and instead watched the glass be raised to soft pink lips. As Geralt moved to get up, he saw how he was almost asked to stay in place, to not move. But it wasn’t something he was willing to entertain. Previous doms would have gripped his hair and yanked him back into place if they wanted him to stay. He would have fought them though, growled and been slapped for his insolence until submission was, sometimes quite literally, beaten into him.

Instead, Geralt stood and walked to the bar to order himself a drink. He didn’t expect to be followed there and the dom he’d been kneeling for settled on a stool next to him. They shared a look but Geralt wasn’t in the mood to chat, he never really was to be fair, so he clutched at his new glass and stared ahead.

“I can be back here next Wednesday after seven,” the guy offered. “Bring ideas for a scene if you want.” He put some money on the bar and squeezed Geralt’s shoulder. “Name’s Jaskier by the way.”

The surprised “Geralt” was lost in the general hubbub of the bar and Geralt wasn’t sure if Jaskier had heard him. Or even cared. It didn’t matter. He downed his drink and went home, annoyed that once again he slept pretty good despite the fact he hadn’t even got off.


	3. Chapter 3

Hair half up, Geralt stomped into the club on Wednesday after nine. He’d had a shift overrun when his relief hadn’t turned up and he’d had to stay on until overnight cover was sorted. So he was in a foul mood and was half expecting to see Jaskier with someone else by his feet or not even there. Instead, he saw Jaskier with a glass in his hand in one of the armchairs, looking peaceful despite having waited two hours for Geralt.

The sight of him had something settling in Geralt’s chest and while he still couldn’t apologise, he could approach with a drink in hand as an offering and an expression of remorse for being so late.

“Geralt! I wasn’t sure if you’d come tonight.” There was no accusation in Jaskier’s voice, just a soft hint of resignation. “While some like to play hard to get, I wasn’t sure whether you actually wanted to be here with me.”

The drink was pushed at Jaskier who accepted it with a soft smile and an even softer “thank you darling” which had Geralt wanting to snap and snarl. Instead, he stood, arms hanging uselessly next to him, uncertain what to do now. Thankfully, he was saved from having to do anything more by Jaskier who seemed to considerably brighten.

“So, you’re here, did you have a think of any play we could incorporate into a scene?”

Given the mood Geralt was in, he spat out the first thing he could think of that would quiet his mind. “I want you to hurt me.”

If it surprised Jaskier, he didn’t show it but he did gesture to the other seat at a slight angle to his. As Geralt sat down, he seemingly stalled by taking another sip from the drink.

“What kind of hurt?” Curiosity and the desire to understand were the obvious motivators of such a question but Geralt didn’t really have an answer.

“I can take anything except cutting.”

“I didn’t ask what you can’t take, I asked what kind of hurt you want.” The words had Geralt snarling, he wasn’t fussy, as long as he got to come his brains out. Usually, such a display had people backing away or rising to the challenge. What hadn’t happened before was having someone passively stare at him as if to say “are you quite done yet?” and that made him squirm.

“Don’t care.” Not quite what he meant because in reality he didn’t know. However, Jaskier just seemed to nod, eyes unwavering and assessing.

“I can make you hurt enough to forget, even if it’s not a healthy coping mechanism if you’ve got unresolved issues.” Now he was sounding like some awful lecturer and Geralt didn’t have the patience for that kind of shit. He almost pushed up but Jaskier kept talking. “I can do it without toys, without more than my fingers. Do you want that?”

Fuck it, Geralt had made the effort to get to the club even so late, he might was well get a lacklustre orgasm for his efforts. And maybe Jaskier would have enough of him. So he nodded.

“Wonderful. Before we go on, what’s your safeword?”

Not that Geralt would ever use it but he knew enough to at least have one to offer. “Roach.”

He got another nod for that before Jaskier continued, “Mine is ‘lute’. If either of us use our word, all play stops for the night. We’ll take a moment, assess our needs and move on accordingly. Whether that’s talking or silent aftercare. However, we will eventually discuss what happened to end up where we did. Clear?” Once Geralt nodded, holding back on his eye roll, Jaskier kept talking. “I also tend to use the traffic light method where ‘green’ is all is good, ‘yellow’ is slow down and ‘red’ is stop.”

“I’ve heard of that,” Geralt ground out. Not that he had ever used it, even when asked he only ever said green, no matter what he was feeling. Because it was his fault if he wasn’t strong enough to take what he’d asked for, he needed to learn and be better.

“I fully expect to use it, even if I haven’t asked, you are always to let me know if you’re feeling anything but green, okay?”

So many rules that were so pointless. Geralt was an adult, he could live with the consequences of his choices. However, he begrudgingly nodded, eager to get through this formality Jaskier seemed to insist on.

“Are you willing to play by these rules?”

“Yes.”

Rather than say anything, Jaskier smiled and stood, offering an arm which Geralt took with only mild reluctance. They walked past the larger, public playrooms that Geralt had been taken to before. A small nod from Jaskier at an attendant had them led through a discreet door and into a shorter hallway. It took Geralt a moment to realise that these were private rooms. He hadn’t even realised such a thing was an option.

“Strip.” The word was quiet, softly spoken but there was no arguing against it. Not that Geralt really wanted to, he was finally going to get what he’d wanted three weeks back. An orgasm that would silence his mind for a bit. Quickly and efficiently, he stripped, not caring much about nudity. They were there to fuck, not to be blushing about having a few scars. If there had been emotions involved, Geralt might have found himself more uncomfortable but this was purely an arrangement of physical needs and nothing more.

Standing, he waited for Jaskier to browse through a drawer, too used to being ignored if he wasn’t to the pleasure of his partner. However, Jaskier turned quicker than expected and gave him a dark eyed once over.

“Very nice,” he purred, swaying closer. “On your hands and knees.”

Obedient for now, Geralt did as told. It was a familiar position to take up, though usually he had been forced to kneel and then shoved down or was yanked down by his hair. But it was a solid base, he trusted his arms to not give out, no matter what Jaskier threw at him.

Still clothed, Jaskier knelt next to him on a folded throw, barely in his field of vision. A hand ghosted over his back, following its dip before coming to rest on his backside. “You wanted to hurt so I will give you that.” And Geralt thought that it was about fucking time. “I want you to control yourself and not come until you’re given permission.”

Should be easy enough, Yennefer had liked to play that game too, though sometimes she liked to push him over the edge just to be able to give him the punishment for disobeying. Anyway, if Jaskier was intent on using just his fingers, he couldn’t deliver a big enough blow to tip Geralt over even at full swing. It would take a cane or a whip to elicit the kind of pain that almost tipped into pleasure.

There was a rustle that sounded like a condom wrapper and the squelch of lube. Curiously, Geralt peered over his shoulder and frowned when he couldn’t see what Jaskier was up to. Strangely, he wasn’t reprimanded for his nosiness but Jaskier’s hand stroked over his flank like one would do to a twitchy horse and he showed his other hand, two fingers sheathed in a condom slathered in lube.

“Colour?” Jaskier asked.

“Green.” As if something like this would have Geralt running. “Get on with it.”

He expected a swat to somewhere on his body for his insolence but Jaskier only laughed softly. “I suppose I didn’t ask about acting out and suitable punishments. So we’ll get on with it. Remember, don’t come.”

If Jaskier thought Geralt was going to come from a finger or two in him, he was an even bigger idiot than Geralt suspected. He grunted at the pressure as a finger pressed into him.

“I take shits bigger than your finger, you can start off with two.” It would burn a little but Geralt could cope. He wasn’t in the mood for dilly-dallying around.

Rather than be urged on, Jaskier hummed and kept his slow pace unbothered. However, it didn’t stop his mouth from starting to run. “You only have one thing to focus on and worry about, that’s to not come. Let me worry about everything else. You can do that, can’t you?”

It wasn’t like Geralt needed to give any input. Jaskier seemed quite happy to keep talking as he finally pushed a second finger in, the condom making it a little awkward feeling. However, it wasn’t something Jaskier was bothered by, he seemed quite content to use just two fingers and Geralt began to grow restless, wondering whether Jaskier actually knew anything about getting someone off or if he was just all talk and no substance. His fingers kept falling just shy of Geralt’s prostate, hinting at what could be but never quite getting there. Deciding to take matters into his own hand, Geralt shifted a little, angling so Jaskier would at least press where it felt good. He didn’t anticipate Jaskier moving with him and stopping it happening. So the bastard was deliberately avoiding making Geralt feel good.

“You wanted to hurt,” Jaskier reminded him. “I’m going to do just that on the terms you gave me. Carte blanche.”

It made Geralt growl in his throat, frustrated. This wasn’t pain, it was an exercise in maddening teasing and nothing more. Even his dick was barely half hard, so underwhelmed by it all. Jaskier must have noticed because all of a sudden, there was another finger working him open and Geralt hissed at that. Instantly, all movement stopped and Jaskier waited. When nothing came forth, he softly asked, “Colour?”

“Green. Just hurry up already.”

A tut was his only response but Jaskier began moving his hand again. It was a little better, the girth of more than two fingers was perking up Geralt’s interest enough that he didn’t even huff when Jaskier added more lube.

The fingers pressed closer against his prostate, even had the gall to spread and move either side of it without touching. However, it was enough for Geralt to actually get hard and he growled again, deep in his chest. He wanted more, not this half-assed teasing Jaskier seemed to be so content with.

“Are we going to spend the whole night here? Or are we actually going to get off?” Actually, now that he mentioned it, he had no idea what Jaskier was getting out of this. Geralt very much doubted that finger fucking someone into a frustrated madness was enough to get anyone off.

“You’ve got your word if you want this to stop.” Jaskier was leisurely keeping up the pace he’d set, incrementally closing his fingers so slowly, it took Geralt a good half a minute to realise what was going on. The pleasure was slow to build, pressure in the right places and it was only when he dropped his head down that he saw his cock was slowly dripping. That was a bit of a mindfuck, while he felt vaguely turned on, it didn’t feel good enough that he should be having such a reaction. But now that he’d seen how his body was reacting, everything else was slowly catching up to him too. The fingers were ever so lightly passing over his prostate, still not enough to make him jerk and groan in sparks of pleasure but just enough to have him shiver a little.

“You’re being so patient now, I like a good boy.”

That made Geralt’s metaphorical hackles rise. He wasn’t anyone’s boy. But before he could protest, Jaskier pressed down on his prostate unexpectedly and pleasure shot through him, causing his back to bow. It was over as quickly as it came and Geralt whined at the loss, he had been so close to finally getting off, the very reason he had been at the club to start with.

“Remember, you can’t come without my say so.”

Really, Geralt could very well come whenever he wanted to, thank you very much. But it defied the whole point of what they were doing. Geralt wanted to forget for a while and Jaskier wanted to feel in control over someone. At least, that was what Geralt assumed the point of being a dom was. The power, the ability to do things and get away with it that weren’t acceptable in everyday life. His musings were interrupted by Jaskier pressing into him again, fingers almost too slippery with lube.

Tension was starting to build in Geralt’s stomach. He could feel the tendrils of climax working through him and welcomed them. It was great until Jaskier pulled his fingers out and the pleasure receded which just wasn’t fair. 

“Be good.” It was a warning and a reminder. Jaskier had given him such a simple task but it was starting to turn difficult. Even better, it was gradually becoming Geralt’s sole focus. The fingers in him were moving again, teasing him closer and closer to the edge but denying him that last little pressure for release. The hand stroking down his back was no longer an annoyance or a distraction. If anything, it was a welcome touch, grounding and soothing against the building pressure that seemed to not let up.

Once again the promise of an orgasm was pulled from his reach as Jaskier slowly circled his fingers. At least it wasn’t leaving Geralt bereft of all sensations and he shivered.

“You’re taking it so well. Colour?”

“Green.” Geralt absolutely did not stutter on the words or keen when Jaskier rewarded him with a murmur of “thank you, dear heart” and some strokes over his sweaty back.

Thinking was starting to get difficult. Geralt had no idea at what point he had switched from annoyed at only being worked barely open with three fingers to panting and feeling like his whole body was on fire from just three fingers. He didn’t really have the capacity to care as his pleasure was ratcheting higher again as Jaskier pushed into him. Only to deny him at the last moment, pulling back to tease along the edges of his hole.

“You’re so pretty like this, perfectly behaved just for me. You’re being very good for me Geralt, thank you.” Those words hurt worse than any whip or chain could have. Sweat dripped from the tip of Geralt’s nose as he shivered under the undeserved words. Yet they kept coming, telling him he was wonderful, how nicely he took Jaskier’s fingers, how gorgeous he was as he tried to hold back.

It all had Geralt hurtling towards something incredible yet terrifying. He couldn’t let himself tip though, not knowing where it would land him. So Geralt gritted his teeth and tried to claw himself back to an awareness he hadn’t realised he’d let go of. His muscles tensed, and he remembered Jaskier’s words stopping him from coming and he squeezed his eyes shut to stop the near overwhelming need. It was starting to hurt, just as he had been promised but it wasn’t the sharp pain of being caned, nor the dull throb that followed a harsh paddling. No, what Geralt was feeling was an all consuming ache of want yet having to hold back. His thoughts were tunneled down into behaving, into not coming and clenching greedily around the fingers in him, no matter how much he wanted it.

“Come for me.”

The words slammed through him even as they were only softly rasped in his ear and Geralt eagerly obeyed as the fingers fucked into him roughly. His arms gave out, come splashed against his chin and he groaned deep in his chest at the relief of finally being allowed his release.

There was a hand on his shoulder and he was being rolled onto his side, hair brushed from his face gently. It was all so foreign, Geralt swatted at the hand with a low growl, even as he couldn’t quite make the words out that were being said to him. Gradually, he could understand them and he wanted to scoff, he hadn’t been good, he wasn’t precious. All he had done was follow the requirements that would result in him getting an orgasm that was, surprisingly, good enough to be what he needed. Now that he could think again, Geralt made to sit up. Hands were immediately guiding him up and he was rested against something warm and firm, he realised too late it was a chest.

“You’re okay, beautiful,” Jaskier purred and tried to cradle Geralt despite being clumsily fought against with tired arms. All Geralt wanted was to leave now, he’d had what he wanted, he didn’t need anything more.

A sharp “Geralt!” had him stilling. “Remember the rules. Aftercare until I deem it safe for us both to be on our way.”

If Geralt understood it right, this was as much for Jaskier as it was for him and he sneered a little. Still, Jaskier had given him what he needed, it was only polite Geralt gave back.

“You want me to suck you off? Is that what you need?”

What Geralt didn’t expect was for arms to surround him in a gentle hold that could only be described as a cuddle. “My dear heart, you really haven’t been treated right, have you? All I need is for both of us to get back on an even keel now. No more sex, I promise.”

Ridiculous, absolutely outrageous that Jaskier insisted on wasting time on such frivolities and coddling when Geralt was just fine. Yet there was no denying that being held like that was nice. Even better was the hand carding through his hair, it made it easier to ignore the soft words Jaskier seemed intent on lavishing him with. However, Geralt relaxed into the hold against his better judgement.

To his utter mortification, Geralt woke up an indeterminate time later. He tensed at realising he was still being cradled in firm arms and there was a throw draped over him. One that had been under Jaskier’s knees when he had been kneeling next to Geralt.

“There you are.” The words were almost whispered against the sensitive skin of his neck. “How are you feeling?”

Nobody had really asked him that before and Geralt let out a ‘hmm’ that was open to interpretation. It earned him a small chuckle and the light strokes became a squeeze of his shoulder.

“I’ll take it,” Jaskier said. He helped Geralt sit up under his own steam and grabbed a couple of water bottles from the small fridge in the room along with a couple of wet wipes.

“Where are we?” Geralt finally asked. “I’ve never been to this room.”

A small smile was sent his way as Jaskier settled on the floor opposite him with more grace than Geralt would have thought him capable of. There was also a cheeky grin playing on his lips.

“The private rooms are only available to trusted patrons who have a certain reputation as competent and trustworthy partners. I’ve been around long enough to earn the privilege.”

It was very clear that Jaskier had experience aplenty but Geralt didn’t want to know about that. This was all just about them blowing off some steam and nothing more, so he nodded but didn’t pry.

“Finish your water then we can go.” Jaskier’s experience didn’t just apply to sex then but also to reading the situation. Thank fuck for that. Geralt downed the water in a couple of long swallows and missed the look Jaskier gave him.

Standing up, he dressed quickly, glad to see his clothes hadn’t been touched while he had embarrassingly fallen asleep.

“I’ll be back here on Tuesday around 8 if you’d like to play again,” Jaskier offered.

From the door, Geralt turned to look at him with a look and a gruff “thanks” and slipped out the door. There were so many things whirling around his head. Questions about why Jaskier would want to have another session with him. Why Geralt himself was even considering it because on paper, this was nothing like what he tended to accept and the idea of it hadn’t been appealing. And yet, there they were, with Geralt looser than he had been after a lot of sessions with others and knowing that he would be back after 8 next Tuesday.


	4. Chapter 4

Work was surprisingly okay over the week. Geralt found himself feeling a little more settled, less jaded. Almost as if his naive, optimistic outlook was returning after so many years of being worn down. It was ridiculous to think that it was because of that one play session with Jaskier. Really, Geralt wouldn’t even call it a play session because nothing much happened. It was something that played on his mind a lot, the feelings that had been threatening to envelop him as the ache of denial was coupled with words that had never been applied to him before. Whatever it was, Geralt wasn’t sure whether he liked it. The whole thing had felt too intimate, too much like Jaskier actually cared about Geralt which he shouldn’t. Yen had cared for Geralt in her own way. Even she left, found someone better, though that wasn’t what she had said to Geralt, that was what he heard between the lines. Geralt was good enough to play with and blow off steam but nobody would want to keep him.

Finally, Geralt could put a finger on what had kept him thinking back to the evening. It was the worry that Geralt would get used to being treated like that and when it inevitably was taken away, he would miss it too much. It wasn’t the kind of hurt he wanted or thought he could handle. Being discarded by Yen had hurt enough even though they both knew it wasn’t something that was going to last. But his foolish heart had hoped that if he was good enough, if he was everything Yen wanted (he never could be), she would keep him. That was a friend and someone he trusted. Rejection from a stranger would hurt more and less at the same time and Geralt couldn’t accept that.

Having the early shift meant Geralt could leave the hospital by 4pm and he had a quick nap before a shower, grabbing something to eat and driving across to the club. The now familiar routine of going to the club, getting asked the colour band he’d like if any, walking through the doors and down the short corridor before turning into the bar, it was a comfort, helped Geralt shed some of his daily worries. In the club he didn’t have to think, didn’t have to do much other than be something for someone else to use. It didn’t matter that five hours earlier he was seeing to a twenty something year old who broke his arm because he jumped out of a tree while one bed over someone was crying because they needed blood taken and they didn’t like needles. It wasn’t his patient but he still got roped in to try and help take blood. He’d failed not for lack of skill but because the patient refused to believe he could be gentle. Such a big brute like him could only be rough.

So much for leaving his life at the door. Geralt scoffed at himself for being so bullheaded, he couldn’t even follow his own advice. There was a less than subtle throat clearing from behind him and Geralt stepped to the side, not even looking. Whoever it was didn’t walk past him but stopped by his side.

“It’s quite the view, isn’t it?” Jaskier greeted him, all smiles and bouncing energy.

A side gland and a “hmm” was his only reply but he didn’t seem especially bothered. Instead, he gestured to the bar with an inviting quirk of his lips. As one they moved towards it, neither sitting on the stools, Geralt ordering his drink and, after a beat, Jaskier’s too.

“Don’t get used to it,” he grumbled when a grateful look was sent his way.

“Wouldn’t dream of it. Why don’t we find a quiet corner to brood in?” Jaskier led the way and Geralt followed. They ended up in a pair of plush armchairs in a nook that offered a modicum of privacy. For a change, Jaskier pointed to the chair and not the floor for Geralt. It sent a spike of anxiety through Geralt, thinking he was being rejected and this was Jaskier’s idea of a gentle let down - he did seem the kind to do things in the most tactful of ways.

“How are you after our session last week?”

Not at all the question Geralt was anticipating and he hummed, a gruff “fine” was the only response he could give. After a few awkward minutes of staring and smiling, Jaskier nodded and took a deep breath.

“Okay. Usually I get more of an enthusiastic response than that. But that’s okay. You’re here again so a simple ‘fine’ might be a five star review in Geralt-speak but I just don’t quite speak your language yet.” He didn’t seem to either realise or care that he was rambling and Geralt watched him impassively. “So, I wanted to check in and just talk a few things over. Was there anything about it that you didn’t like?”

“No.” A beat of silence. “But I’m not a boy.”

That got a vigorous nod as Jaskier obviously made a mental note. “Okay, no to being called ‘boy’. How do you feel about baby, doll, sweetheart or other endearments?”

Remembering the warmth coupled with the disbelief that they actually applied to Geralt, he weighed up his options. This was as much about Jaskier’s preferences as his ability to tolerate things. He probably shouldn’t have said anything about the ‘boy’ issue either. It wasn’t like he didn’t end up coming harder than he had in a long while anyway. So he nodded.

“Those are fine.”

“Wonderful!” Jaskier actually looked delighted by that and Geralt half expected the endearments to start dropping from his lips then and there. And he was almost disappointed when it didn’t happen.

Geralt wasn’t raised in a barn and knew how social conventions worked, even if he’d never quite had such a discussion about a scene before. Usually, he took what he was offered and tried to be grateful someone even wanted to do anything with him.

“Was there anything you didn’t like?” He asked, not because he cared but because it felt like a social obligation. Geralt was already prepared for a list of his failings, ready to be told he wasn’t enough, wasn’t what Jaskier had hoped of someone like him.

After a brief hum and an assessing look, Jaskier spoke, “The only thing I’m concerned about is you speaking up when something isn’t fun anymore. I need to be able to trust you to put a stop to things when you need.”

“I’m an adult, I know what I can take.” The rebuttal was probably not what Jaskier wanted to hear, judging by the way his lips pressed into a thin line briefly. That was his prerogative, Geralt was of the opinion that if he agreed to something, he would see it through rather than be a disappointment and let his partner down. The body healed and he could always choose not to play with the person again if he didn’t like it.

Opposite him, Jaskier took a delicate sip of his drink and sighed. There was definitely an air of sadness to him but he didn’t press the issue.

“I know that. But I would hope to never make you feel like you couldn’t but the brakes on things because you’re not enjoying it. But other than that worry, you were absolutely perfect.” That last bit was added with a cheery smile and Geralt blinked. He was many things but not perfect. “Actually, I wanted to talk about limits a bit more.”

Still numbed by the declaration of being perfect, Geralt nodded mutely, not really paying much attention. He could hear Jaskier and knew what he was talking about but his mind was a little caught up on the lie. There was no way Jaskier didn’t have a laundry list of complaints. From being too noisy to not verbal enough, Geralt had heard the lot. Yen had liked to chastise him for holding back on noises but when he finally broke, she mocked him for how ridiculous he sounded.

“I wanted to know your opinion on punishments. Because you were a bit bratty last time, so I will ask, is punishment play something you’re looking for?”

Once again, Geralt’s only real answer was, “I can take whatever you dish out” which wasn’t in the least the answer Jaskier was looking for. But rather than get frustrated or angry, he nodded along happily and just repeated his question.

“Is punishment play something that you want? Do you want to deliberately misbehave and be put in your place?”

It actually made Geralt think, assess what he actually wanted. That wasn’t something he had been afforded before. Usually, he said he was good for anything and he was taken at face value. Nobody pushed him for his own preferences. Thinking about it, he found he wasn’t actually sure. Pain was something he enjoyed but did he want to be punished? Mutely, he stared at Jaskier who was still waiting patiently for an answer.

“No.” The word took more effort to say than Geralt had ever thought possible. Immediately, he was thinking whether he had said the wrong thing, whether he had denied Jaskier something he wanted. “But I can deal with it. I learned to like pain so-”

“Nope,” Jaskier cut him off. “You don’t want it, it won’t happen. It’s as easy as that.”

He looked like he was going to say a lot more but at the last moment cut himself off. Instead, he offered Geralt a wink and drank some more from his glass.

Nothing was ever that easy for Geralt. He blinked and tried to figure out what the hell just happened. There had to be some kind of trick or a barter of ‘if punishment was off the table then maybe something else should be included instead’ but nothing of the sort was coming.

“Did you want to punish me?” It seemed like a fair question and a small amount of relief coursed through his veins when Jaskier shook his head.

“I enjoy it but it’s not my preferred type of play,” Jaskier finally said. “I would much rather spoil someone with their likes. Be it being whipped and restrained or held tenderly through aftershocks from toys and being filled to the brim.”

“So you have no preferences?”

“I do. But I’m like you, in a way. I want to please my partner,” Jaskier shot back, eyes twinkling with delight. It shut Geralt up once again and he mulled it over.

“So no punishment?” he ventured, almost shy. “No pain?”

“Oh sweetheart,” Jaskier actually looked heartbroken. “No punishment but if you want pain, I can still put you over my knees and spank you, take a flogger to your back, make you scream so pretty. All I mean by no punishment is that if you don’t do as you’re told in a scene, I won’t seek retribution in a way that both puts you in your place but we both still enjoy.”

That didn’t make a lot of sense but Geralt just frowned into his drink as he tried to figure out what Jaskier’s ploy was. He was taken aback when their quiet corner was invaded by someone all but skipping over. She had a green wristband and her eyes were fixed on Jaskier, bright and coquettish. Without a word, she sank down to her knees by his feet and offered him an inviting, bright smile.

Watching her, Geralt felt his heart sink. She was quite beautiful and obviously knew what she wanted. The more Geralt watched the more he realised she was everything he wasn’t. He wouldn’t blame Jaskier if he took the girl to a room and had fun with her. She could probably offer so much more than Geralt and with less problems.

“I saw you were in the market for a new sub,” she purred, eyes drifting to the red band on Jaskier’s wrist.

“Thank you for noticing. But I’m a little busy right now.”

He shot Geralt a look before his eyes landed back on the girl by his feet. Delicately moving his chair a little, Jaskier turned bodily away. She shuffled after him, playfully whining and swatting at his knees. “Play with me, daddy!”

“What are you doing?” His tone was cold, expression shut off even if there were hints of thunderous annoyance behind it. Geralt had to admit, he was impressed by the sudden change. Maybe the girl was someone he’d played with before and this was what she liked. “I told you I’m busy. Let me make it clear, I don’t want to play with you.

“I heard that your previous sub had left you,” the girl was pretty much trilling, back straight and showing off. “Figured I would offer myself as an upgrade. I need a nice dom and heard you were one of the best.”

A muscle ticked in Jaskier’s jaw and his nostrils flared in genuine annoyance. His lips curled up into a sneer. “If I had wanted you, I would have approached you myself. Don’t think I didn’t notice you wantonly splaying yourself out as soon as I stepped foot in the club. Why should I attend to you? Ah yes, because you can just wiggle your freely offered backside at any dom you fancy and they have to comply because... Why? Because we're just here to serve you? To care for your  needs over our own. Fuck off, I'm not interested.”

The girl, obvious offended, stood up and glared at Geralt before looking back to Jaskier. “I didn’t realise your standards had dropped so low.”

“Go away. Now!” Jaskier snarled, face scrunched up in rage. It made Geralt jump a little and the girl turned in disgust. He hadn’t expected such a furious reaction from Jaskier, if anything, he expected to be left alone as the girl enticed Jaskier away. But Jaskier was turning back to him with a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry about that. Usually, people have better manners.”

There were so many questions circling in Geralt’s head. Why Jaskier didn’t go for such an open invitation? How come he didn’t tell her no like he’d been firm with Geralt about not coming? That voice and attitude would have sent her away and probably happier too, having got a taste of Jaskier being a dom.

“Why didn’t you?” he asked in the end and Jaskier cocked an eyebrow at him.

“Because I didn’t want to? I told you, I only have one sub at a time and right now, I’d like to explore that possibility with you and no one else. Plus, I’m a human first, dom second.” He glanced at the clock behind the bar and frowned. “I have an early client tomorrow. It was nice to be able to chat a little more. How about we meet again next week, maybe plan out a scene. Here-” he scribbled his number on a napkin, “-if you have idea, feel free to message me.”

Just like that, Jaskier was saying goodbye and leaving, Geralt watching his retreating back in confusion. Once again, he didn’t get to come, he didn’t even get to kneel and just be. But somehow, he wasn’t in the mood to let someone else approach him and take him to a communal playroom. Finishing off his drink, he stood and left, binning the green wristband on his way out.


	5. Chapter 5

What followed were several days of turmoil for Geralt. Because Jaskier’s words haunted him, made him question everything about his time at the club. He hadn’t been all that different to the girl who had approached Jaskier. Really, the only difference was that Geralt had even expected doms to come to him and give him what he needed. Which made him an awful person and an even worse partner. He wondered what he could do to rectify the situation, to put Jaskier as a person first, dom second and prove that he was a worthy partner to play with.

The napkin with the phone number haunted Geralt, worry that he had nothing to say outside of sex ate away at him. In the end, Geralt came to the conclusion that while his words weren’t his strong point, his actions could speak for him. Despite the mild humiliation, he made himself an appointment at the local clinic and endured the questions and prodding that was a screening for any sexually transmitted disease. It was going to be worth it, he told himself, even if he was terrified. Because this could be seen as him agreeing to only play with Jaskier. Though, if things went south, he could always rest assured that he was clean. Which was always a bonus.

It was an agonising three day wait until his results were in and, after a little more stress, he took a screenshot and sent it to Jaskier, with his personal details like address and surname carefully blanked out.

[Thank you for sharing this.] The reply came back a couple of hours later when Geralt had all but decided he had made a mistake and was preparing to never go back to the club or message Jaskier again. [I’ll send you mine when I get home. Client coming in 10.]

Client made it sound like Jaskier was some high end escort and Geralt snorted at the idea. Then reconsidered because Jaskier sure seemed to know his way around when it came to sex. As ridiculous as the notion was, it fit the narrative Geralt was building up about Jaskier and he wondered whether this was some long con Jaskier was playing, hoping to draw him in enough that Geralt got desperate enough to pay for his services when they were withdrawn. Good fucking luck to him if that was the case.

Still, all that thinking about Jaskier had Geralt’s mind twisting in other directions, to the suggestion that he have a think about a scene for them to do. Even if this was all just a ruse to get Geralt hooked, he would make full use of it. It made him pull out the box of toys he and Yennefer had used. Finally, Geralt could sift through them and think about what he actually liked and what he accepted because Yennefer had wanted it. He started off making two piles, the things he wanted to keep were surprisingly few: a flogger which tickled more than hurt when lightly brushed over his skin but when it was used to hit it was whisper soft pain that didn’t burn bright, a broad paddle that left a deep thrum in its wake and some sturdy cuffs. Everything else was on the pile of things he didn’t much care for: canes, gags, a couple of spiked paddles. Her brand of pain was much sharper than what Geralt had preferred and she didn’t particularly like things like strap-ons and toys so Geralt didn’t have any of those. She had almost delighted in denying them to him and he’d accepted it as part of their play, he could live without it and would finger himself if alone and the mood took. That was okay.

The thing that made Geralt bundle everything back into the box and not bin anything was the fact that those toys had cost a pretty penny. They were all perfectly functional and if Jaskier was into playing with them, then they wouldn’t have to waste money on getting more of the same. However, it didn’t stop Geralt snapping a picture of the three items on a whim.

As promised, hours later his phone pinged with a picture. It was similar to what he had sent Jaskier except for the personal details but it certified that Jaskier was indeed free of all diseases. It was dated a few days before they first met. Even more interestingly, Jaskier had left his first name visible - actually, he did everything the same as Geralt - and his name wasn’t Jaskier. It was Julian. How curious.

In reply to the proof, Geralt sent another picture, one of the three toys he had picked out from the pile.

[Any of these appeal?]

He watched the three little dots appear as Jaskier typed a reply. It was almost painful to wait and Geralt wanted to put his phone away but knew that as soon as he did that, the message would magically appear. He let the screen go dark. Not three seconds later it lit up with a notification.

[A lovely selection. Why don’t you bring the flogger on Wednesday?]

Unfortunately, Geralt was working on Wednesday evening. But he could do Friday. Which seemed to suit Jaskier too though he did give a heads up that the club would be busier than usual because of the weekend. That was absolutely fine, Geralt had played in the public rooms before, he knew what it was like. Exhibitionism wasn’t something that got him going but, like most other kinks, he could deal with it.

It somewhat helped quell the unease in Geralt’s mind and he felt a little more settled as he got to the club on Friday night. Jaskier had not been wrong, it was so much busier on a Friday than during the week. It made Geralt hesitate, the flogger heavy in the bag he’d brought with him. If he hadn’t had the session agreed with Jaskier, he wouldn’t have gone in. But he was there with plans for something more than just the hope of catching someone’s eye. And, if Geralt allowed himself to be honest, he quite wanted to do more with Jaskier. Taking a deep breath,he stepped out of his car.

“Geralt!” His name was being called not two steps later and he turned to see Jaskier stepping out of his car. “I’m so glad you came.”

“Not yet,” Geralt muttered under his breath but Jaskier had caught it and barked out a laugh.

“So true, that will be later. It’s so busy, isn’t it? I could barely get a parking spot. My car’s quite small so I could squeeze between two badly parked idiots, I can’t imagine you had as much fortune with your, well, veritable truck.”

“It’s so I can tow a horsebox.” That was more personal information that anyone had ever been told and Geralt pressed his lips together. He was there to get off, not spill his life story. Even if Jaskier seemed to welcome more details and Geralt found him inviting enough to accidentally tell him more.

Despite the obvious interest with which Jaskier looked back to the car then to Geralt, he kept his mouth shut. Or rather, he didn’t mention it and instead hummed and moved the conversation on. “Well, I didn’t think we’d have to queue. That is quite impressive. It wasn’t this bad since the first two weeks after the opening since new management.”

They joined the queue and Geralt crossed his arms over his chest, displeased at having to wait to get in. There were a couple of people giving him and Jaskier curious looks. It was one of the reasons Geralt was so self-conscious, he always stood out in a crowd, drew distrustful looks. At least at work it could work in his favour, he often got sent to deal with the unruly patients. His shoulders crept up towards his ears and Geralt shuffled forward as the line moved.

“So,” Jaskier began, peering around, “feel free to shoot me down because this is a bit soon and I know it’s dumb but with the crowd and the likelihood of getting a private room growing smaller and smaller, do you want to get a hotel room? I would offer to go to mine but it’s a decent drive away and I don’t want you going out of your way to somewhere you’re not comfortable with.”

Really, Geralt wasn’t keen on spending money on a hotel room but given the waiting and the way Jaskier didn’t seem to want to do anything in the public playrooms, it did seem like a better option.

“I would suggest my place but it’s also a drive.”

The greatest surprise was when they realised that they lived not too far from each other. While Geralt lived in the suburbs of the town, Jaskier was in one of the little villages on the other side of it. Oddly convenient.

“Come back to mine,” Geralt said. It wasn’t like he had anything to hide and if Jaskier didn’t like anything, he could get lost while Geralt was already in the comfort of his own home.

They stepped out of the line, Jaskier visibly a little nervous but excited as he all but skipped towards his ridiculous, tiny little car. It made Geralt wonder how he ever fit in there but he managed. In a way, it was just as well Geralt drove such a large car, it was so much easier to follow than if he’d had to keep up with Jaskier. Not that the roads were awfully busy but it still made things easier.

Pulling up on the driveway, Geralt didn’t wait for Jaskier to finish his parallel park before he was opening up his front door. There was the sound of scurrying feet and Jaskier skidded to a less than composed halt behind him, as if worried he would be shut out.

“Bedroom?” Geralt asked as he closed the door behind them.

“Lead the way,” Jaskier gestured. With Geralt up front, he didn’t see Jaskier rubbernecking and getting a good look at the house as he was led through it. Not that there was much to see, utilitarian and basic as Geralt kept it. The house was there to sleep in mostly, usually he was either at work or out with Roach. Or at the club now that Yen wasn’t an option for play.

In the bedroom, Geralt shoved a few bits off the end of the bed and kicked them under it unceremoniously. The clothes weren’t quite worth a wash yet but they had been worn so didn’t go back in the drawers.

“How do you want this?” he asked, hands at the ready to strip.

The answer Jaskier had wanted to give was ‘slowly’ but he didn’t think Geralt would quite know what he meant by that. Without much thought for what was socially acceptable and what wasn’t, he plopped down on the bed and patted the spot next to him.

“You sent me an intriguing picture, including a flogger. Is it something you still want to play with?”

Rather than reply, Geralt reached for the bag and pulled the flogger out. He passed it over to Jaskier and waited for disdained judgement. Instead, Jaskier looked over the toy, inspected the tails and nodded, setting it aside.

“Very nice,” he said and looked up at Geralt, eyes flitting down to his lips. “No right or wrong answer here but how do you feel about kissing?”

The only kisses Geralt had ever really shared before were rough, more teeth and a way to stifle noises into him than whatever media like to sell them to be. If Jaskier wanted them, he could indulge though, so far, all evidence suggested it would be worth his while. So Geralt nodded. He didn’t expect a hand to gently cup his jaw and for Jaskier to guide their lips together softly. It was nothing like the kisses Geralt had shared with anyone before. As alien as it was, Geralt allowed Jaskier to dictate the pace and pressure as he saw fit. An embarrassing noise left Geralt’s throat as Jaskier licked against his lips, teased against his tongue even as he oh so slowly tipped them so Geralt was on his back.

Pulling away, Jaskier looked so pleased with himself, his hand trailed down Geralt’s chest and came to rest on his half hard cock. That in itself was a surprise, Geralt hadn’t ever really gotten aroused by kissing in a scene before.

“As wonderful as this is, we need to take a step back.” Jaskier moved away a little. “I need to know what you want out of the scene.”

“Nobody’s ever bothered with that. They got what they wanted, I got to come, end of.” All this pussyfooting was starting to annoy Geralt. “Can’t you just flog me then fuck me?”

Thankfully, Jaskier seemed to listen as he nodded, a small frown in place.

“Sure, I can,” he said easily. “But I want to make you feel good and help you let go. A little more guidance would be nice, especially if it’s you telling me things to avoid. That would please me.”

After a beat where Geralt laid back and thought over it, he finally managed to wrangle his tongue into working. “Don’t pull my hair.”

As if it was the most natural thing on earth, Jaskier nodded and smiled with a soft “thank you” and stroked down Geralt’s cheek. It was the most bizarre response Geralt ever had, usually if he said he didn’t want something, he’d be wheedled and pressed on how much of a hard no it was. With Jaskier, it seemed like he’d just accept Geralt’s request. Or maybe he would use it against him later. That was another thing Geralt didn’t like, when a dom asked him what he didn’t want and used it as punishment.

He was so lost in wondering what kind of punishment Jaskier would dole out when Geralt inevitably let him down that he almost missed the words directed at him.

“I’m going to get you on your hands and knees, slowly work you up with the flogger before opening you up with my hand and tongue. Then, when you’re good and ready, I’ll fuck you. Sound good?” Jaskier asked, as calm and pleasant as if he was reading from a phone book.

“Sure.” There wasn’t a catch that Geralt could detect but that didn’t mean it was coming. Still, he allowed himself to be urged onto his front and there were hands stroking almost reverently down his back. It was even stranger that he was still in his clothes. However, Jaskier didn’t seem too bothered as he continued his soft ministrations, coupling them with quiet murmurs of praise. It was only when Geralt let out a deeper breath and his muscles stopped being so tight that Jaskier sat back with a pleased little hum.

“You’re magnificent. Why don’t we get you naked?”

There was a small amount of surprise in Geralt at how heavy his limbs felt, that wasn’t usual at all. However, Jaskier was there, helping him strip and kissing the skin that was exposed as though it was the most cherished thing he’d ever encountered.

“Gorgeous. You are sublime my darling.” Jaskier helped Geralt settle back on the bed and shucked his clothes too. The mattress dipped as Jaskier knelt behind him and ran broad, warm hands up Geralt’s back. “I can’t wait to hear what sounds you make when flogged.”

That sent a shiver down Geralt’s back and he grunted a little when firm fingers dug into his muscles briefly, in the hint of a squeeze. One hand left him but Geralt was not quite paying attention, feeling absolutely secure in Jaskier’s presence. As something softly trailed over his back, Geralt let out a whimper, the light barely there tickle had him tensing and yet relaxing at the same time.

“Colour?”

“Green.” Like always but this time Geralt actually meant it without hesitation. The fronds of the flogger traced slowly up his back again, each point of contact like a whisper of delight. It was a sensation Geralt hadn’t had a chance to indulge in a lot, previous doms hadn’t teased him like that much and it just didn’t feel the same if he tried to run the flogger over his legs. Such thoughts went flying from his mind when the flogger trailed over the insides of his thighs and lightly traced the contour of his balls.

“You’re so responsive,” Jaskier purred, voice low and close to Geralt. “Muscles shifting and tensing, your breath catches the most beautifully in anticipation. I could do this for hours on end and not have enough of you.”

The idea of hours of such treatment had a whine stuck in Geralt’s throat. He couldn’t imagine being the subject of such care for so long. Even this gentleness would end and Jaskier would push his own agenda to the forefront, forgetting all about Geralt being a person and not just a body to beat and fuck.

“I’m going to give you ten strikes and will count them.” It wasn’t a question, there was no checking to see if Geralt was ready and he appreciated that. Even if most doms would have just started in with the flogger without more than a light tap to his thighs as a heads up.

The first hit was to the expanse of his back and like a thousand soft burning raindrops where the ends bit against Geralt’s skin. It was made even better by Jaskier’s confident “one” and the flogger was back to trailing over Geralt’s back before moving away and cracking lightly against the other side of his back.

“Two.”

Geralt let his head drop between his shoulders and sighed. It was everything he had ever wanted from being flogged. Just hard enough to smart but not enough to make bright lashes of pain sear through him. Two more hits were delivered to his back before the flogger trailed down and teased over his cheeks.

“Six more and you’re doing so well.” That was definitely praise and Geralt wondered whether things were going to change now. He braced himself for the next blow as the flogger left his skin. The strike landed on the curve of his muscles and stung a little but it was still within the range Geralt craved. Certainly harder than on his back but not by much. A matching strike landed in mirror image and Jaskier counted.

“Gorgeous.” And the thing was, it really sounded like Jaskier meant it. “The last four will be in quicker succession.”

The warning was welcome, helped Geralt prepare but he wasn’t tensing up as Jaskier landed a quick succession of hits, moving the flogger in a figure of eight. As soon as the last hit landed, Jaskier was putting the flogger down and rubbing over the lightly reddened skin.

“You took that perfectly, thank you,” he murmured damply against Geralt, mouth pressing over the marks and rubbing what he couldn’t kiss. The mouth travelled over the swell of muscles and, as Jaskier had promised, he licked broadly over Geralt’s hole before settling in to work his tongue against his rim.

It was all making Geralt’s head spin, the gentle treatment mixed with just the right kind of pain, only to be followed up by more pleasure. For want of a better word, Geralt was drowning in the silence that filled his head. A finger was softly circling his hole and a quick glance to the side revealed that the lube had been snagged at some point from the bedside table.

The tongue at his hole was insistent, working him into pliant obedience and Geralt sighed softly as the first press into his body opened him up. It made him shiver in delight, each pass adding to the soft glow of pleasure that was enveloping him.

“Beautiful. You’re glowing like soft starlight.”

A finger was gently pushing against Geralt and he pushed down, wanting it in him. There was an appreciative hum from behind him as it slipped in. It took a few moments for him to realise it was Jaskier’s thumb, his fingers gently brushing over his balls. Everything was bordering on too much, especially when a mouth gently sucked on the marks fading from the flogger.

At that point, Geralt lost track of time a little, too drawn into the world of pleasure and praise Jaskier was layering over him. Being told that he was good, that he looked perfect just the way he was, it was all building into a dampening cloud of haze.

“That’s it, let me take care of you.” Jaskier didn’t seem capable of staying silent but it didn’t bother Geralt. It was actually relaxing to have a voice to listen to and focus on, somehow it stopped him from getting lost. There was a pressure against his rim and Jaksier was praising him for taking two fingers so well and Geralt felt as though he could take more, do whatever Jaskier demanded of him, even if it was a whole fist. As long as he was good, Geralt would do it.

There was movement behind him and Jaskier telling him he’s going to spear him open on his cock. The lewdness of the words were such a contradiction to the gentle tone, Geralt just nodded mutely and groaned when Jaskier finally pushed into him. With how little he’d actually done it before, Geralt was surprised to find there was no pain to go with it. Before, there had always been that ice cold burn of too much too quickly with others, sometimes even by himself. He didn’t have much time to think before two hands gripped at his hips and they started rocking together. From gentle motions it moved to steady, deep thrusts that had Geralt’s breath catching. Similar to when Jaskier had him coming on his fingers alone, there was a slow build of pleasure that was impossible to ignore after a while.

“Come when you need,” Jaskier rumbled, plastered along Geralt’s back. A hand slipped under them and Jaskier wrapped slick fingers around Geralt’s cock.

It was everything Geralt needed. Too good. He didn’t deserve that kind of treatment, nobody wanted to just give, everyone always took. This was a trick and he was going to have to pay for it one way or another. His orgasm slammed through him along with what felt like a bucket of cold water dropped over him, he felt vulnerable, even as Jaskier groaned above him and came. The warmth, the comfort was all gone and Geralt couldn’t figure out why he was so angry all of a sudden.

“Starlight?” Jaskier asked, pulling away. As soon as he was free, Geralt was rolling to the side and sitting up at the edge of the bed. “Geralt? What’s wrong?”

Too much gentleness that Geralt wasn’t used to. He couldn’t cope with it. A low snarl ripped free of his chest as he turned to look at Jaskier. “You got what you came for, now get out.”

There was a slight widening to Jaskier’s eyes and he pulled his hand away. Immediately, Geralt missed its warmth.

“Now that’s not fair.”

“Get out!” Geralt snapped and turned away, shoulders tight. He was both relieved and breaking when he heard the click of the door. This was ridiculous and Geralt rubbed tiredly at his face, trying to find which way was up in the world. He didn’t hear the door click again but flinched when a glass of water was held in front of him.

“Here, drink.” Jaskier’s voice wasn’t quite as gentle as before but it was still soft.

Temptation to smack the glass out of his hand was strong but Geralt managed to resist. He looked up at Jaskier who was still naked and seemed utterly unconcerned by it, however there was a small frown creasing his brows. Slowly, Geralt took a sip, then another as he realised it felt good to drink.

“Good.” Not the praise from before but it was still a balm of some sort. “Now, do you want to clean up and get dressed before we talk?” They didn’t need to talk, Geralt shook his head but Jaskier somehow didn’t seem to understand that it meant there was no need rather than he didn’t want to clean up. “Okay. We’re going to sit in bed then, you’re welcome to cuddle if you would like.”

Just as Jaskier wanted, they settled against the headboard. For a long minute nothing was said and Geralt began to wonder what the hell they were actually doing.

“What happened?” Jaskier finally asked. “Did I do something that didn’t feel good?”

Geralt shook his head because no, Jaskier hadn’t done anything wrong. He just...he didn’t even know what had happened. One minute it was all amazing and the next he was having an intense climax while angry.

“Okay.” A deep inhale from Jaskier probably meant he was angry or disappointed. “Obviously something happened. Because one moment you were in a headspace and the next you were wrenched out of it, dropping harder than I’ve seen almost anyone do it. What was going through your mind just before the change?”

Embarrassment had Geralt crossing his arms over his chest, trying to protect himself from disapproval. However, Jaskier just waited patiently, in silence as he looked over to Geralt.

“I-” Geralt tried his best, reeling a little from the emotional turmoil. “I don’t know. It was good. Too good. And-” And he got scared, he realised. Panicked that this would indebt him to Jaskier, mean that he would be taken advantage of. And that he would be powerless if he sank any further into whatever headspace he had managed to worm his way into. It was terrifying.

“And?” Jaskier prompted him gently. When Geralt didn’t offer any response, he offered up a few suggestions. “It was too much? You didn’t like it? It was scary?”

At that last one, Geralt nodded shyly. He didn’t see Jaskier’s expression but heard a soft “oh darling” and Jaskier was moving, opening up his arm in invitation.

“Let me just hold you for a bit. Come here.” After only a second of hesitation, Geralt moved, laying his head against Jaskier’s chest. He even closed his eyes. “It’s okay,” Jaskier stroked through his hair and down his back. “It’s a lot of trust and you let go so naturally. Is this the first time you’ve found yourself drifting like that?”

Another small nod and Geralt was horrified to find himself sniffling a little. Thankfully Jaskier didn’t seem to notice, or at least that was what he could tell himself until the arm around him squeezed a little.

“Thank you for trusting me so much. It’s an honour to be able to guide you into such a headspace.” Geralt half expected to be told that they were done, that Jaskier wouldn’t want to play with him again. Instead, no mention of the future came and he couldn’t bear the silence.

“Do you still want to do this with me?”

“We will structure things more but yes. I’m willing to dom for you. But let us talk about that later. Now’s not the time to worry about our future. Let me just take care of you.”

They slipped down on the bed, Geralt still curled against Jaskier. It wasn’t intentional, but Geralt fell asleep, exhausted from the play in a way he never had been before. When he woke up in the morning, Jaskier was plastered against his back and still fast asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who can guess what car Jaskier drives? Answer will be revealed next chapter.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Could it be that they're actually going to have to talk now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There were so many wonderful guesses for what car Jaskier drives. I almost changed plans because there were some great ones offered including: Mini, Smart, Fiat 500, VW Beetle and Kia Soul. I won't spoil it here but congrats to those of you who have guessed correctly!

It was a Saturday and Geralt had it off for a change. Which only meant he would be working on Sunday because sadly people didn’t magically stop being ill at the weekend. Given how erratic his sleep schedule was, he wasn’t all that surprised to wake up when the sun was high in the sky already. What did take him by surprise was the fact Jaskier was still curled against his chest and merrily playing on his phone.

“Morning!” He trilled when Geralt moved and the phone was whisked away. “I hope you slept well, you looked like you needed it.”

Grunting, Geralt sat up and rubbed at his face. He couldn’t figure out why Jaskier was still there, in his bed and looking so chirpy.

“Don’t you have work?”

“Well, contrary to popular belief, while mental health isn’t a 9-5 Monday to Friday issue, my office hours are yet to reflect that. Even if I do bend the rules and offer some weekend and evening sessions.”

Trust Geralt to find a therapist to be his dom. It explained so much and yet nothing at all. He felt a little guilty for assuming so much about Jaskier within a few short seconds of knowing his job.

“I’m sure Freud would have a lot to say about that,” he huffed.

“Freud can snort the decayed remains of his dick.”

The response had Geralt snorting a little and he looked over at Jaskier who had sat up.

“I guess that it’s a no on Freud from Mr-” he broke off, realising he didn’t know Jaskier’s full name and didn’t actually want to know. Because that implied that they had more than a letting off steam kind of acquaintanceship.

Looking over his bare shoulder, Jaskier sent him a boyish smile. “It’s Dr. actually.”

“Fine, Mr. Doctor-Actually,” Geralt shot back. Rather than be offended, Jaskier actually had the gall to laugh.

“Jaskier is fine and don’t worry, I won’t psycho-analyse you, I won’t write a case study on you or anything of the like. Now, you look okay after last night but I didn’t want to assume. So do I need to see myself out or is breakfast of some description on the menu?”

That was how Geralt found himself with a bowl of muesli and yoghurt at his dining table with Jaskier opposite him, still chattering away. Somehow, it didn’t bother Geralt as much as he thought it would. There was something reassuring about it because it meant that Jaskier’s general talkative nature wasn’t a front, wasn’t something he drew people in with to play. That was just him and Geralt could appreciate the honesty with which he approached everything. However, what Geralt couldn’t figure out was why Jaskier was still there, even though their plates were empty.

“Did you want to fuck me again today?” It was blunt, to the point and offered Geralt up in a way he wasn’t sure he wanted but he couldn’t think of a reason to say no if Jaskier agreed.

“No.” The reply was both a relief and a disappointment because obviously Geralt was no longer desirable after last night’s fuck-up. “I think we ought to take our play back to the club.”

That stung a little and Geralt stared flatly at Jaskier. Naturally, it was picked up on.

“It’s only to give us both a sense of safety. Because doing a scene at home can be very intimate, I’m not sure if you would want that.” The ‘yet’ hung in the air, unspoken.

“Don’t care,” Geralt replied. “I’m capable of getting out of things no matter where I am.”

Definitely the wrong thing to say because Jaskier’s mouth pressed into a thin line. Which Geralt just didn’t understand because surely he was the one at risk of being hurt. If he felt capable of leaving then what did it matter where they played? No offence to Jaskier but if it came to it, there was no doubt that Geralt would be able to overpower him if needed.

“That is exactly the issue,” Jaskier replied. His tone was even, if a little clipped. “Because physically you are capable. But have you ever used your safeword? Ever replied with anything but ‘green’ to a check-in when it was many things but okay?” Geralt’s silence was an answer he seemed to accept. “Exactly. Until I can trust you to voice your limits, I don’t want to do a scene away from the club.”

The whole conversation had blindsided Geralt. He thought they were going to fuck again, not have some uppity dom tell him he didn’t know his own limits. Before he could get pissy and throw Jaskier out, softer words were directed at him.

“I like you. I really think you and I could make for a good pair as you have the potential to be a phenomenal sub. But I need to feel safe in our scenes too.”

Just like that, the wind was taken out of Geralt’s sails. Because, once again, he had disregarded Jaskier as a human, focused on only his use as a dom and a source of twisted pleasure. A little less confident, he pushed his bowl away and tried to figure out how to say what was on his mind.

“Human first, dom second,” he ended up repeating the words back. “I’m trying to remember.”

He wasn’t sure if that was going to be enough, Geralt rarely was so he wouldn’t have been really surprised if Jaskier walked out. What he didn’t expect was a small, sad smile.

“Have you ever been someone’s long term sub before?”

“I had Yen.” Geralt was reluctant to admit it, worried that if he talked about what he had before, Jaskier would find him lacking one way or another. What he didn’t expect was the soft “tell me about her” and an encouraging nod. “She was fierce, strict, didn’t take any bullshit. She was the one to introduce me to this kind of sex.”

Through it all, Jaskier listened intently, not staring Geralt down but not looking away for too long either. In a way, it felt like Geralt was being heard for the first time.

“Did you have an interest in this kind of play before she brought it up?”

The question had Geralt thinking. Because in a way, yes, he did. He’d just wanted to be good enough for someone and what Yennefer proposed was the best solution he could find. So he nodded with a barely audible “yeah”.

“When she showed you things, did she explain everything? Give you a chance to say no or ways to put an end to things you didn’t like?”

Such questions seemed strange. Of course Yennefer did all that. They had safewords, at the start Yennefer had checked in with him often until he’d snapped that if he didn’t want something, he’d say so. It wasn’t Yen’s fault that Geralt had to learn to, if not enjoy, then at least tolerate some of their play. But he had wanted to be good for her, be what she needed and he couldn’t even manage that.

“Sure. But she wouldn’t have kept me if I didn’t play how she wanted. And I wanted to be good for her.”

Opposite him, Jaskier clicked his tongue. There was a certain amount of sadness to him and Geralt decided it was time he asked a question.

“Why did you leave your last sub?”

It had Jaskier’s face go through a myriad of emotions from offended to annoyed through to something softer at some memory or other probably.

“I didn’t leave him, as you put it. We agreed that it was time to stop playing.”

“Why?”

“Love.” And Geralt didn’t understand. He’d always thought love was something that kept people together, that love was something to offer up and hope the other person would find it acceptable. He watched Jaskier, waiting for a further explanation. “Cahir and I, we made a great pair. Got exactly what we needed from each other but we both knew that a spark was missing. Our agreement was that if either of us ever found someone who had that spark, we would call it a day. And, months ago, he came to me and said he’d fallen in love.”

A hint of wistfulness entered Jaskier’s voice but he also looked so proud. He shook his head with a small scoff. “I’ve seen him a few times and he looks so besotted, it’s actually quite sickening in the loveliest of ways.”

Somehow, Geralt couldn’t imagine that kind of love. Well, he could, he’d dreamt about it often enough but they were only for fairytales and films. He had learned over the years that it wasn’t something for him, that was for sure. But, he could try and be what Jaskier needed until someone better came along.

“You said you’d want to do something together again?”

That seemed to get the conversation back on track and Jaskier nodded, although hesitantly.

“I do. But I want it to be very clear about the whole scene. And maybe this time, if we use any aids, it’s something we buy specifically for the scene and not something either of us has memories attached to.”

All things Geralt could do, even if he didn’t need to plot out a whole evening - it did take some of the fun out of it. But if that was what Jaskier needed, he could do it. Correction, he would do it. Because Jaskier wanted him so Geralt would offer what he could for as long as he was wanted.

“Got any toys in mind?” He asked, gruff and to the point, he didn’t expect Jaskier to smile and bring his chair around so they were next to each other.

“We should browse together.”

What followed was the most bizarre half an hour of Geralt’s life. He watched as Jaskier flicked through various pages of sex toys until settling on a site that seemed to cater to what he had in mind.

“Is there anything you’ve always wanted to try? Or really enjoyed?” Again, not a question Geralt had even really considered so he shrugged. He didn’t expect Jaskier to readily offer up his own preferences. “Aside from having my partner utterly blissed out, I am quite fond of things like inflation play, fisting, the like. Truthfully, I just love watching you stuffed full and squirming in pleasure.” He didn’t even look flustered by it and Geralt wondered how many times he’d discussed this before to be so at ease. “So things like plugs, beads and the like are of interest to me.”

That, at least, got a nod out of Geralt. They sounded like something he would enjoy too, even if inflation play wasn’t something he had ever really even considered before.

“Now-” Jaskier smiled at him softly, “-are you just nodding because you want to please? Or are any of these something you want too?”

“I want,” Geralt grit out. After a moment of silence, where Jaskier looked at him a little expectantly, he continued, “The plugs and beads. Please.” Because he wasn’t raised in a barn.

They browsed through pages of the toys, narrowing down choices as they went. While Geralt was half tempted to scoff at some of the ones Jaskier put on the ‘to consider’ list, when he voiced any disdain, he got a smile in turn.

“There’s the issue of your eyes being bigger than your hole. Trust me on this. We can work our way up to bigger toys if you want but we’re starting sensible.” Behind Jaskier’s back, Geralt rolled his eyes. He could take the bigger toys, he was sure of it.

In the end, they had a choice of four toys, a classic plug, some flexible beads, a vibrating set of solid beads and a prostate massager. When Jaskier asked if Geralt had any preferences, there was only a shake of head.

“I can choose, if you want it to be a bit of a surprise.”

Actually, that sounded quite nice and Geralt gave an assenting nod, “I’d like that.” The wide smile he got at that filled him with an unexpected warmth, like he’d actually done something right. Once Jaskier pocketed his phone, the conversation turned back to the scene, gentle probes of what might feel good and what could be too much. As far as Geralt could tell, it wasn’t all that helpful because yes, he liked praise, it could be too much at times but he couldn’t say when or what would happen if it became too much. Thankfully, Jaskier didn’t seem to mind or press the issue too much.

In the end, they actually seemed to have a scene worked out that sounded like something they would both enjoy. Geralt was still suspicious about it, wondering when it would all be thrown back in his face. And yet he couldn’t help feeling a little hopeful, maybe even excited, as pathetic as that sounded. From the door, he watched Jaskier get into his ridiculous little Smart car and honk his horn before driving off.

They were going to meet again, on Tuesday evening at the club. Despite his misgivings, Geralt knew he was going to be there. He might even wear a nice cologne for a change.


	7. Chapter 7

Tuesday came round rather rapidly and Geralt wondered how he had managed to allow this whole thing to happen. Then he remembered how he craved a particular kind of sex and how Jaskier had been so careful but firm in a way he’d never anticipated desiring before. Before Jaskier, Geralt had thought his preferences could only ever involve pain, the intensity that he wanted arising from the mixture of agony with pleasure. Yet along came Jaskier and showed him how there could be a different side to things where Geralt didn’t seemingly have to take whatever his dom wanted. Which was frankly ridiculous. Because Geralt wanted to stop thinking and stop having to be in control and that meant submitting to the whims of someone else. And while he craved to hand over himself as a sub, doms wanted all the power and the ability to dish out pain and punishment as they deemed fit. It was an exchange, on that Geralt had readily agreed to every single time, not thinking he ever had a say in the matter as the subservient party because he didn’t want that control. His pleasure came at a cost and that was pain. It was a choice he would make over and over again because he was weak and wanted mindless pleasure, no matter the cost.

Walking into the club, Geralt was only a little disappointed that Jaskier wasn’t already there. Maybe he had decided Geralt was too much effort, not worth more than a quick fuck or two but, having had a bit of time to reflect, perhaps he’d found Geralt more lacking than he initially wanted to believe. And, deep down, Geralt couldn’t blame him.

He ordered a drink at the bar and frowned into it. The plan hadn’t been to drink but the disappointment was Geralt’s own stupidity. If he hadn’t let himself hope, he wouldn’t have been where he was now so it was his own fault really. Maybe once he finished his drink, someone would want to lay into him in a public playroom. In that moment, Geralt would have even accepted someone with a knife kink - anything to burn the sour disappointment from his mind.

“Geralt!” That was Jaskier bounding up to him with a wide grin. “I was just finishing setting up. Want to bring your drink through and we’ll have a quick recap to make sure we’re on the same page?”

“Sure.” Geralt followed easily, trying to reel in his emotions as tightly as possible. He wasn’t relieved and happy that Jaskier was there and already getting things ready for them.It didn’t mean Jaskier cared.

The room wasn’t the same one they had last time but it might as well have been. The same layout, a small table with some lubes and condoms along with a few other bottles. There was also a box on it that wasn’t in the previous room which Geralt’s eyes lingered on. On the front was a picture of a set of beads and he realised exactly what he was looking at. He wondered whether he’d just ruined some of Jaskier’s fun by noticing it without permission - the surprise was gone now.

“I didn’t think we’d need more than the cushioned floors for this scene,” Jaskier said, flitting about the room before sitting down next to the table and patting the floor near him for Geralt to join him. “So, let me know if things have changed since Saturday but the plan was to have you take some beads-” he pulled the toy in question from the table and showed Geralt, “-with moderate amount of praise so we don’t tip you into anything uncomfortable. You said you’re okay with presentation play and I can come on your bare skin.”

Summarised like that, it didn’t sound sexy at all. But it was also lacking in the pain, something Geralt couldn’t wrap his mind around.

“You can also spank me,” he offered and watched for Jaskier’s reaction carefully. His words were obviously carefully considered.

“Our initial plan didn’t include that. What made you offer it now rather than when we planned this out?”

There weren’t sufficient reasons as such that Geralt could articulate. He ended up shrugging. “Thought you might like it.”

What he didn’t anticipate was a hand coming up to cup his cheek gently, a thumb stroking over the skin gently.

“I am more than content with the scene we have planned. Are you?” Once again, intent eyes were searching Geralt’s, waiting for a reply without any pressure. Slowly, Geralt nodded and was rewarded with a wide smile. “There is just one more thing I want to suggest.” Jaskier pulled a piece of ribbon from a pocket. It was soft and silky, a rich lavender that stood out starkly against his hand and also the dark padding of the floor. “I would like to wrap this around one of your hands. If things get too much but you can’t voice your discomfort, the ribbon comes off and all play stops, okay?”

Again, Geralt nodded and offered his left hand up. The ribbon was gently looped around it and Jaskier made him drop it a couple of times as well as making sure he could move comfortably without it falling off without Geralt’s intention. Once they were both satisfied, Jaskier smiled.

“Shall we start?”

It was awkward to say the least. Usually, Geralt was led to a room after he nodded along to whatever the dom of the night wanted, reassured them he was going to be fine whatever they threw at him - sometimes literally. Now, he stared at Jaskier, they were already in the room they were going to play, Geralt knew exactly what to expect but had no idea how to initiate things.

“Why don’t you strip for me, gorgeous wolf?”

It was like watching Jaskier slip into a comfortable outfit. He still looked kind and gentle but there was a soft edge to his voice, one that demanded he be obeyed. Obediently, Geralt stripped and he got to watch Jaskier’s eyes darken in appreciation.

“Why don’t you come and kneel?” Once again, the floor in front of Jaskier was patted as he made his request. It wasn’t a command or an order, everything was always phrased so carefully into something Geralt could refuse if he wanted to.

Gracefully, Geralt sank down onto his knees and his head dipped, unable to meet Jaskier’s eyes anymore. This whole thing was so foreign, being talked into getting into position rather than being roughly pushed and shoved around. Experience made Geralt tense up, wondering when retribution was going to come for when he failed to be perfect for Jaskier. It made his palms sweat, making the ribbon damply stick to his skin.

From the periphery of his vision, he saw Jaskier get up. A hand trailed lightly over the back of his shoulder and neck, the touch almost fond.

“So stunning. You really are art that’s come alive. Maybe one day you’d allow me to wrap you up in rope and worship you like you deserve to be.” That drew a snort from Geralt, still not quite in the right mindset. He didn’t expect Jaskier to step up behind him and tip his head back against a warm, still shirt covered stomach. “You laugh now, my wolf,” the words were purred at him, “but I plan on taking you apart until the only thing you know is how to howl in pleasure.”

Being let go left Geralt feeling oddly bereft, he’d found comfort in the heat of Jaskier’s body so close, something to lean into. But he wasn’t there to have Jaskier attend to his every whim, Geralt’s role was to take whatever Jaskier dished out in exchange for giving up control and having a good orgasm.

“I know exactly how I want you,” Jaskier announced cheerily. “Lean forward, shoulders to the floor. I want you to show me your hole, pull your cheeks apart with your hands.”

Not the usual thing asked of him, Geralt did have one dom who laid a series of smacks on his hole and balls in that position and it wasn’t something he particularly wanted to experience again even though he’d agreed to it. Ribbon firmly around his hand, Geralt leaned down as told and got into position. A veritable purr sounded from Jaskier and a hand trailed over his back. 

“Breathtaking, thank you,” Jaskier murmured. From his position, Geralt couldn’t see Jaskier but felt him settled on the floor behind him. A slick, warm finger ran over his hole and drew a sharp intake of breath from Geralt. Only, it didn’t quite feel like a finger. And now that Geralt thought about it, there was a hand on his thigh and another on his back.

“Is that-?!”

“Would you prefer I used my fingers rather than my tongue?” Jaskier’s breath ghosted across his skin, warm and gentle.

“No.” If he wanted to do it, Geralt wasn’t going to stop him. And maybe he was quite intrigued by it. He’d had plenty of people use his tongue before but returning the favour had been a whole other matter. In his experience, subs were there to pleasure their doms, not bask in being lavished with it. This was a nice accident in a way, Geralt very much doubted Jaskier was doing it just for his pleasure.

“Thank you. You’ve got your word and your ribbon if we need to stop. Colour?”

“Green.”

A warm, wet tongue lapped over his hole again in small movements. It made Geralt’s breath hitch, especially when broad, longer licks were added to the mix, starting over his balls and ending with the tip of Jaskier’s tongue swiped over tight muscles.

While there weren’t any words of praise being thrown at Geralt, everything about Jaskier seemed to indicate he was more than pleased. The hand on his thigh was softly squeezing the muscles while fingers stroked over his back soothingly. Most telling of all though were the little hums and slurps that Jaskier didn’t seem inclined to even try and stifle.

The first press of tongue into his body had Geralt tensing and trying to escape. His hands slipped from the position Jaskier had asked of him. Immediately, Geralt’s tensing turned from pleasant surprise to fear. He’d fucked up. Jaskier had been making him feel good and he couldn’t even maintain a simple position. That kind of shit was why nobody could ever tolerate Geralt for more than a couple of sessions. Why Yen, his very best friend found someone better to go exclusive with.

“It’s okay sweetheart.” Jaskier didn’t sound angry, which made Geralt worry even more. A hand brushed up his back which was a solid wall of muscle, braced for impact. “Let’s get you more comfortable.”

Hands tugged at Geralt lightly, nimble fingers pressed into his shoulders, urging them to relax. He was gently but quickly worked over before Jaskier hummed in contemplation.

“Why don’t you get comfortable? I will ask you to take up this position later on if you’re willing. But for now I want you to focus on being able to enjoy what’s happening without worrying about positions. My only request is that I can see your ribbon at all times.”

Trying to do his best to please, Geralt pushed his knees a little wider and pillowed his head on his arms. Once he stopped moving around, Jaskier waited a few more seconds before asking “colour?” softly.

“Green.”

Warm hands rested on Geralt’s cheeks as Jaskier knelt behind him. It left him feeling exposed and under scrutiny. However, before he could shuffle around or try and distract, Jaskier’s tongue was back. It made Geralt’s back arch as he forgot himself and pressed back for more. With a moan, he was granted his silent request, Jaskier pushed his tongue past muscles and licked into him. It was everything and more Geralt had ever imagined it to be and a soft moan worked its way out of his throat. Somehow, that made Jaskier seem to sigh happily and Geralt decided to try it again. This time, he was a bit more vocal about his pleasure as Jaskier licked into him and got a moan in return. It really seemed that Jaskier was into hearing how much Geralt was enjoying himself. Which made for a curious loop, the more vocal Geralt got, the more into it Jaskier seemed and the harder he tried to pamper Geralt.

In the end, Jaskier pulled away, panting a little, and wiped his face with a satisfied hum. “I think you’re ready for a little more.”

One slick finger rubbed over Geralt’s slick hole, pressed against it and Geralt pressed back into the touch. It was everything he’d ever wanted and he was being teased with it. He didn’t expect two fingers to press into him carefully. It was so much more than a tongue and he jerked first away from the sensation then back into it, taking the fingers deeper.

“Easy, sweetheart.” Jaskier steadied him with a hand on his hip. “I just want to get you nice and wet.”

Sure enough, the fingers were pulled out (much to Geralt’s disappointment) and he could hear more lube being liberally applied to them. They were pushed back in and Geralt groaned at the sensation. He had thought it would be a bit more uncomfortable, more of a burn. It had been like that even when he’d tried it by himself.

“You sound beautiful,” Jaskier praised and Geralt flushed. Of all the things to be called, ‘beautiful’ had never been one that applied to him in any way, shape or form. “I think you’re ready for the beads.”

At some point Geralt’s eyes had slipped shut because he was blinking them open to watch Jaskier pad to the table for them. He’d put them up there after showing them to Geralt for approval. They were innocuous enough, seven beads in total and the biggest one wasn’t even as thick as two fingers.

“Colour?”

The question grated on Geralt’s nerves, the constant checking was not something he was used to. At least, not so frequently. It was what he had liked about Yennefer, when he told her to stop constantly making sure he was okay, she actually stopped.

“Green. Doesn’t the stiffness of my dick tell you that?”

The hand that had returned to Geralt’s back flexed a little, giving away Jaskier’s reaction even if he bit down on his words.

“I like to be sure that body and mind are in agreement.” It wasn’t much of a reply but there was no apology or promise to cut back. Maybe it was something Geralt was going to have to talk to Jaskier about if they did this kind of thing again. “Would you like the beads?”

Again, the control was back with Geralt, he had the choice and that...it didn’t rankle him as much. Because it wasn’t a case of him having to dictate what happened, it was a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’. Still a choice but it was a binary one without much thought beyond whether he wanted something or didn’t.

“Get it in me,” he growled.

He felt Jaskier hesitate behind him but there was no retribution for being snappy. The first bead was gently pressed up against him and, with minimal effort it slipped in. It was thoroughly underwhelming and Geralt frowned. He really had been hoping for more.

“There’s still six more to go,” Jaskier murmured. The second bead was already insistent against Geralt and he pushed back into it, a small gasp leaving him as it popped past lax muscles. “Count them for me.”

“Two.” Geralt obediently called out.

The third bead was a little more effort but it went in, pushing the other two a little deeper. Saying ‘three’ was a little more laboured but Geralt was greedily wanting more, another bead.

“So eager,” Jaskier’s voice was warm again, tinged with fondness. “I can’t wait to see you take all seven beads. You’ll be stuffed so lovely and full.”

Taking the fourth bead left Geralt panting but determined for more, even as Jaskier told him they were over half way there. If Geralt focused, he could feel the beads resting in him, jostled higher as the fifth one stretched him open before sliding snugly into his body. They were starting to rub all the right places and Geralt rocked his hips a little, wanting more.

A slick hand slipped between his legs and stroked over his cock, leaving it straining for more. As the sixth bead nudged against his entrance, Geralt moaned a little. Between the hand around him and the surprising stretch from the bead, he was losing himself to the sensations. Not as badly as Friday night but it was definitely a pleasant haze.

“Last one,” Jaskier whispered. “You look breathtaking my love.”

As promised, the last bead, which was also the biggest, slowly began to open Geralt up. He whined at the intrusion, hips rocking a little. It was almost too much. He could imagine what Jaskier would see, just the handle of the beads sticking out of him. Maybe the last bead would bulge out a little, hinting at how full he felt with all seven beads in him. Groaning, Geralt pushed back onto the last bead and cried out when it lurched into him. It felt more than good and his thighs quaked.

“I want you to show me. Like the last earlier, put yourself on display for me.”

Geralt did as told and he was rewarded with a groan from behind. Peering over his shoulder, he watched as Jaskier pulled his hard cock out of his trousers, eyes fixed on Geralt’s hole.

“Keep it like that for me,” Jaskier panted, kneeling up behind Geralt. There was no doubt about what was going to happen and Geralt let out an appreciative little hum. He liked the idea of Jaskier coming over him.

“Mark me up. Claim me as yours,” he purred, suddenly finding confidence in the situation. “You’ve got me so full. Now declare me yours.” Mesmerised, Geralt watched as Jaskier thrust his hips a couple of times, pink tongue wetting his dry lips sporadically. With a low groan, Jaskier shuddered and angled his cock, coming in streaks over Geralt’s back and over his hole too.

“Fuck. You’re perfect,” Jaskier panted and looked over Geralt, obviously very satisfied. “You may relax. Let me help you now.”

His slick hand reached for Geralt again. Warm and slippery, it felt like bliss. Even better, the other hand began teasing with the beads, threatening to pop one out before letting Geralt’s body reclaim it.

“You’re incredible,” Jaskier praised and it had Geralt’s head finally shutting up as he could focus on the pleasure being given to him. “So good for me. I love how you take everything I want to give you.”

It seemed that all Jaskier wanted to give Geralt was pleasure and he sank gratefully into it. He was so close, the orgasm creeping up on him until it was almost upon him. Just when Geralt thought he was about to explode, Jaskier pulled harshly on the handle of the beads and Geralt howled. It was perfect, mind blinding pleasure ripped through him as Jaskier kept a gentle hold of his cock, giving him something to rut into for the last vestiges of his climax.

There was a moment of stillness when they both took stock and then Jaskier was easing Geralt onto his side, from there to sit up and a water bottle was pressed in his hand.

“Colour?”

“Like the grass on the other side,” Geralt rumbled and took an appreciative swig of his drink. He was surprised to find that Jaskier was curling in next to him, holding him close. A quick peek told Geralt his eyes were closed. “You asleep?”

Humming in question, Jaskier sat up and blinked at him tiredly. “No, just enjoying this.”

“You get off on this bit?”

“No. But I do take a lot of pleasure from it in a way. It’s nice to have a partner to hold who is still warm and sweaty from a scene we’ve done together. I like taking care of my lovers.” And Geralt wasn’t going to deny him that, he didn’t have the energy to fight it. So they sat in silence until it was Geralt who moved, looking for his clothes.

“Was this what you wanted?” he asked, a little shy. That wasn’t a question he’d ever asked but somehow it felt right with Jaskier.

“It was. Maybe we could discuss things over a drink?” Jaskier got up and offered Geralt a hand. There were wipes on the small table and the offer of helping wipe down. That wasn’t something Geralt was willing to suffer though and he did the best he could to clean the some and lube off himself.

Once they were both put back together and presentable again, Jaskier led them out to the bar. Two waters appeared for them and one was passed to Geralt. It was only when they were settled in a quiet corner that Jaskier let out a sigh.

“Was that what you were hoping for?”

“I’ve never done a scene like this.” It didn’t answer the question. “But I wouldn’t have changed anything about it. You?”

Shaking his head, Jaskier took a sip before looking Geralt over assessingly. “You were good. Though I would like it if you bristled less when I check in. It’s a comfort for me to know things are still good for you. And while we learn each other, they’re going to be more frequent than with someone whose body and responses you’ve known for years.”

Silently, Geralt reminded himself that Jaskier was a human first, dom second. “Okay. I’ll try and be better.”

The smile he was given was one he didn’t think he deserved. “That’s all I ask. We’re still getting to know each other. But so far, I like what I’ve seen.”

A little shy, Geralt dipped his head. It didn’t stop the quiet “me too” from leaving his lips. He hoped he and Jaskier would get a chance to do another scene again soon.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There has been an utterly humbling and amazing response to this fic. I see all your lovely comments and treasure them all. Thank you to everyone who has been reading along so far, I love seeing your reactions on here and on tumblr, you're all inspiring chapters to keep coming!

After that Tuesday night, Geralt and Jaskier ended up exchanging a flurry of messages. It was oddly nice, Geralt mused. He would take his half hour break at work and look at his phone. Usually, nobody bothered messaging him because Lambert and Eskel (or at least one of them) was on shift with him which meant there was no need to resort to messages. But now, there was a happy little red bubble on his message app to say he had two unread items.

[I’ve been thinking, would you like to explore more about the headspace from that Friday session? I may have an idea for it.]

And two minutes later there was a follow-up message to it.

[That’s assuming you want to do another scene together.]

It made Geralt actually crack a smile just as Lambert came into the staff room and threw himself into one of the chairs.

“What? Did Eskel send you a meme or something?” Immediately, Lambert was reaching for his phone and pouting at it when he didn’t have a message. “Is my own boyfriend ignoring me in favour of you?”

“No. But mine is,” Geralt replied with a smirk and looked up at Lambert with wide eyes as he suddenly realised what he’d just said. The “oooh” from Lambert was absolutely not helping his inner panic. Jaskier wasn’t his boyfriend, couldn’t be. He hardly knew a thing about him aside from his sexual preferences and the car he drives. Well, he also knew that he was kind, determined, stubborn, and careful and that was how Geralt dropped his face into his hands. He’d gone and developed feelings. Fuck.

Not understanding what was going on in Geralt’s head, Lambert looked at him, a little worried. The “you alright there?” was softer than Geralt had ever heard before and he took a deep breath before sitting up straight.

“Fine.”

Thankfully, Lambert didn’t push but he cast Geralt some curious glances before returning to his phone and pulling out a sandwich - homemade like it had been the last couple of months, not that Geralt noticed or felt jealous in any way about that. Even when they contained notes that made Lambert smile. Oddly, Eskel had the same reaction and sometimes they showed each other their notes with a strange softness that made Geralt wonder just what was going on in their private lives. Something that was none of his business, that was for sure.

In the end, Geralt replied to Jaskier just before his break was over.

[I’m interested. What did you have in mind?]

He just needed to remember that this was purely sex, nothing more. Geralt could keep his heart under lock and key, caged for its own safety.

What Geralt didn’t expect was a suggestion that he went over to Jaskier’s for a coffee if they could find a time that suited them both. Which was rather surprising. It was far beyond anything Geralt had expected and it took him another few hours to finally reply.

[Sure.]

It was going to have to be another day where he finished work and went straight to Jaskier’s. On the plus side, he would have the following day off if Friday suited Jaskier too.

[I’ll need an hour on Saturday - client @10 - you’re welcome to stay though]

Interesting that Jaskier assumed he would be spending the night. Though, after a day at work, Geralt was relieved he wouldn’t have to drive across town following whatever they got up to.

[If you want, we can go over the scene and, if you like it, we could do it then.]

It seemed that Jaskier was as keen as Geralt to play again which made something strange twist in Geralt’s stomach. He hadn’t wanted to be needy but certainly felt it, wishing he could have another session with Jaskier so soon after their last one. Yet he’d refused to ask for fear of seeming clingy. However, with Jaskier asking, he didn’t feel needy like Geralt had assumed he would come across if he asked.The joys of double standards and all that.

Friday, it turned out, was an absolute clusterfuck. Usually, Geralt didn’t mind being one of the big, burly nurses who got called to deal with the more unruly of patients. Still, he didn’t expect an eighty two year old to kick up quite so much of a fuss at having blood drawn for a kidney function check. Triss had warned him that she was a fiesty one but still, Geralt couldn’t march in there like a brute and intimidate an octogenarian. He’d crouched down, chatted to her like he would with any other patient. She was a real sweetheart, calm and talkative, even let Geralt talk through what they were going to do and why. It was all nods and more chatter as he got everything ready. There was a tray next to Geralt, he carefully wiped the disinfectant over the back of her hand.

When he reached for the needle, all hell broke loose. The sweet old lady was seemingly replaced by a vicious creature who lashed out for Geralt’s face, screeching blue murder. He just about had time to bring up an arm to protect his face and teeth clamped down on the meat of his forearm. It took Eskel and Triss to pry her off and Geralt stared at the blood trickling down his arm from the bite. Fuck.

It was an incident that took up the rest of his afternoon. Firstly, his arm needed to be seen to, and Eskel’s joke about it being a good thing they were already in A&E fell flat. Disinfectant, antibiotics, bandages, they were all applied and given in short order. The pharmacy would have his pills ready by the time he finished his shift. At least it was Eskel and not Lambert tending to him, so Geralt had a little bit more sympathy and a gentle touch. While Lambert was good at his job, he was a little more heavy handed at times. Patched up, Geralt had to file an incident report, arrange for a follow-up appointment, make a phone call to occupational health and also hand over his cases to the next shift. By the end, he was exhausted and grumpy. Only the reminder on his phone pointed out that he was expected at Jaskier’s in forty minutes. Which meant he had enough time to get changed, maybe swing by a drive through for a coffee and then get to the address he had been given.

At least, that had been his plan until Eskel cornered him and walked him to the pharmacy. It took them a good ten minutes to sort out his prescription. Geralt stared Eskel down as he dry swallowed the first dose, ignoring the suggestion the antibiotics be taken with food.

“Lambert gone to get the car?” Geralt asked in a bid to derail any chastising. Surprisingly, it worked as Eskel smiled, boyish and soft all of a sudden.

“We’re getting picked up today. It’s date night.”

Sappy idiots, Geralt had no idea how they managed to be so harshly perceived by the world and yet be soft fools for each other.

“Enjoy,” Geralt said and trudged to his car. He didn’t even have time for a coffee now. Probably just as well, he might get a shot at sleeping at night.

The drive to Jaskier’s was uneventful, if a little busy. He pulled up outside a tidy looking house, not big by any means but homely. After a moment of sitting in the car and staring, Geralt got out and walked to the front door. His arm was starting up with a dull throb as the painkillers from earlier began to wear off. It wasn’t the end of the world though, he could grit his teeth and ignore it. Something like that wouldn’t stop him getting off.

Watching the door swing open, Geralt was greeted with a wide, beaming smile. It seemed that Jaskier was in high spirits, ushering him in without a single cautious look into the street to make sure nobody saw Geralt.

“Welcome to my humble abode!” Jaskier was flitting about, pointing out where shoes went, where the bathroom was and offering a drink.

“Water. Please.”

Jaskier disappeared into what Geralt assumed was the kitchen and he followed, not wanting to be alone in a strange house. He ended up watching as Jaskier poured them both a glass of chilled water and garnished the rim with a fresh slice of lemon. It felt far too fancy for something to be drunk in a home setting, before sex. However, Geralt wasn’t going to complain or even mention it.

“I seem to remember you’re more of the down to business type,” Jaskier said, eyes twinkling in anticipation. “Shall I tell you about the idea I had for the scene?”   
  
For the first time in a long time, Geralt wasn’t all that interested. He’d had a shit day at work and would rather have sat on a sofa with a plate of food while something dumb played on the TV than be smacked about to the point of orgasm. Still, he’d promised Jaskier that they could do something and he was a man of his word. Of course that was also when Eskel’s wordless judgement delivered and a wave of nausea swept over Geralt. He didn’t let it show though, it was his own stupid fault because he knew better.

“Why don’t we settle on the couch?” Jaskier was already steering them towards it with a light touch to Geralt’s arm. “Not to be rude, but your undershirt feels like the most unusual of textures,” he commented, a thumb running over the hidden bandage curiously. The sudden pressure made Geralt jerk away, an ache crawling up his arm. It got him a questioning frown.

“Not shirt. Bandage,” he muttered. Jaskier would see it anyway shortly so he decided to get the ogling out of the way before it could ruin any kind of mood he managed to muster up. Pulling his hoodie over his head in one move, Geralt held up his arm to show the bandage. It had a bit of brown-red staining where blood had seeped through.

“Oh Geralt!” Jaskier was reaching for the injured arm and cradling it in two gentle hands. “What happened?”

“Patient didn’t want their bloods taken. Violently resisted.”

“I didn’t think you worked with children,” Jaskier said softly, a finger tracing the edge of the bandage.

“I don’t. This was an eighty two year old lady.” There was a bit of humour in it now, Geralt could smile in a self-deprecating way.

Sighing, Jaskier leaned down to press a small kiss to the injury. “Not much of a lady! I imagine it hurts. Do you really want to do a scene after all this?”

It made Geralt hesitate, habit had him automatically nodding and trying to say “yes” but at the same time, he really wasn’t in the mood. In the end he offered the only solution he felt was available to him. “I can still get you off.”

That obviously was the wrong answer because Jaskier’s face fell.

“You won’t know the difference, I can still pretend to submit in whatever your plans were.” That didn’t salvage the situation as Jaskier shook his head and slowly reached for Geralt’s face, cupping his cheek.

“Nonsense, we only do a scene when we’re both physically and mentally prepared for it. But, if you’ll let me, I’d still like to spend time with you.”

It was so out of the blue and nothing anyone had really suggested before that Geralt could only nod. The replying smile made him wonder what he had done right to deserve such unbridled happiness at the fact he had agreed to stay. People usually only wanted him for sex and were dropping him as soon as that was done. Yet it felt like the right choice.

“Lovely!” Jaskier pulled away with a bright smile. “Can I get you anything to eat? Maybe a snack of some description?”

With sex and submitting seemingly off the table, Geralt blinked owlishly. This was uncharted territory, usually he was either at work and didn’t hesitate about taking charge of a situation. Or he was with Lambert and Eskel where he could do as he pleased, their friendship had long since sailed past any semblance of manners.

“Got any toast?” He ended up asking. “I took the antibiotics without food and I’m regretting it.”

“I can make you some,” Jaskier offered, concern darkening his features. “Do you make a habit of neglecting your needs?”

“No.” The denial was quick and Geralt frowned. He didn’t expect Jaskier to shake his head, looking almost fond. However, he disappeared back into the kitchen and Geralt followed. While he waited for Jaskier to get things together, he looked around. The house was quite homely, things looked well loved and comfortable but not worn to the point of it barely hanging onto dear life.

His assessment was interrupted by a plate being placed on the counter next to him. Two slices of toast and before Geralt could say anything, a variety of jams and some butter was also being pushed in his direction.

“I think I’ve got some pate in the fridge too. Buttered toast with that and pickled cucumber is a surprisingly nice snack. And no, I don’t take criticism.”

That brought a smile to Geralt’s face and he shook his head. “Thanks. But I think some plain toast to start with might be enough.” On second thought, he added some honey to the toast, knowing the bitter taste building in his throat was another side effect that food wouldn’t chase away but he wanted a moment of sweetness.

“Thank you,” Geralt mumbled around a mouthful. He didn’t expect Jaskier to watch him with an unreadable expression before seemingly making his mind up.

“Bring it through to the living room, I don’t mind crumbs on the sofa.”

They walked back, Geralt slowly munching on what he now classed as his dinner. He wanted to apologise for ruining their plans for the evening, for promising to fulfil one of Jaskier’s wishes and kinks but bowing out at the last moment. He could have pushed through if he really wanted to, it was only a moment of weakness. However, there was no opportunity to say sorry because Jaskier was chattering again, asking him about his day and pulling stories out of him.

It was almost unnoticed by Geralt, how their conversation flowed, Jaskier brought out more snacks and they got comfortable as the hours slipped by. They talked about Jaskier’s work, how he liked to play music in his spare time (that was when a lute of all things was brought out). In exchange, Geralt talked about Roach, the trails he had explored with her and a little about the wilder stories from being a nurse.

Somehow, it was easy to forget that Geralt had arrived with the expectation of a hard fuck and nothing more. He slipped a little lower on the couch, comfortable in a sprawl. It had been a while since he’d just sat and talked to someone new. And it only got even better when Jaskier announced he was peckish and they raided his fridge together. There had to be something said for the simplicity of making sandwiches elbow to elbow for what could almost qualify for a late night snack. Which was the moment Geralt realised that it was gone eleven, would probably be midnight by the time he got home.

Obviously Jaskier saw his gaze linger on the microwave’s clock because he said, “You could stay for the night.”

After a moment’s deliberation, Geralt nodded. Because he wasn’t ready to go yet, not when he was so enchanted and intrigued.

“That would be nice, thanks.”

They ate their sandwiches standing in the kitchen, leaning against the counter. It was pure luck that Geralt spotted a notebook shoved hastily under the microwave. The more he thought about it, the more he saw of a house hastily tidied. There were several mugs in the sink, obviously collected from around the house - there were enough ring stains on the coffee table to suggest Jaskier often left them lying around.

“Nature calls,” Jaskier announced out of the blue, not really embarrassed by it and he waved at Geralt as he walked off to the bathroom.

Maybe he was brave or foolish because the notebook had piqued Geralt’s curiosity. As soon as Jaskier was out of sight, he was moving and pulling it out. He very much doubted it was anything patient related - if it was, Geralt knew he would quietly put it back. However, as he’d suspected, Jaskier had more care than to leave confidential notes lying around. Instead, Geralt was treated to the discovery of a sketchbook. Half the pages were filled with sketches and doodles. Dragons and mythical creatures featured heavily, with a seeming preference for humanoid figures. Fae, vampires, mermaids leapt from the pages, a date scribbled in the corner. It was helpful actually because there seemed to be no rhyme or reason to the order of the sketches. The best explanation Geralt had was that Jaskier flipped the sketchbook open on a random page and began drawing without much thought for where anything else was located within it.

“Ah,” Jaskier said as he stopped in the kitchen door, eyes on the sketchbook. “I obviously didn’t tidy up very well.”

“Hiding it under the microwave counts as tidying?” Geralt asked, teasing. It made Jaskier laugh and duck his head so he counted it as a win.

“A fair point. I didn’t tidy as much as shove things out of sight. Badly at that.” There was a contemplative look Jaskier gave the sketchbook before his eyes turned to Geralt. Obviously something had occurred to him. “I think I might have an idea for a scene.”

It was a hesitant offer, maybe something that had him hesitating.

“Sure,” Geralt readily agreed. He didn’t want to disappoint Jaskier, not after having such a lovely evening with him.

“I haven’t even told you what it is yet.” Jaskier was hesitantly smiling, obviously not trusting why Geralt was saying yes without even hearing the idea.

“Doesn’t matter. I want to please you.”

It was the wrong thing to say because Jaskier deflated. “Why don’t we talk about it tomorrow?”

Not at all what Geralt expected but he nodded, keen to make Jaskier happy again. “Want me to take the couch?” He offered, not sure how welcome he was all of a sudden. Given the look Jaskier shot him, he’d assumed wrong. Again.

“We’ve had sex and shared a bed before. I think another night of sleeping next to each other won’t change much. Unless you’d prefer the bed? I’ll take the couch in that case, it’s not negotiable.”

As if Geralt would kick Jaskier out of his own bed. He shook his head and, if he allowed himself to think, he quite liked the idea of sharing a bed. Not that he would admit it.

“Sharing is fine.”

Without having to clarify, they both made their way to the bedroom and got ready. Teeth brushed and down to underwear, they stood by the foot of the bed where Geralt’s eyes dropped to Jaskier’s lip. There was a moment of hesitation, neither of them moved then they were reaching for each other, lips slotting together in a minty kiss.

The kiss ended with Geralt on his back, Jaskier straddling him and licking into his mouth between panting breaths.

“Sorry,” Jaskier pulled away, lips slick and wet. “I should have asked.”

“I wanted it,” Geralt reassured quickly, craning his neck up for another quick brush of lips. “I wanted you.”

Because while in the bedroom Geralt might be submissive, it didn’t mean that outside of that situation he was a pushover or a limp, wilting wallflower. His views on how subs behaved in a BDSM relationship by no means carried into his regular life. And kissing was something he didn’t think happened between doms and subs, not really. So it was something he felt comfortable exploring under his own steam as he wanted. What it meant for whatever was brewing between him and Jaskier, he had no clue. But he hoped it wouldn’t ruin everything.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to the wonderful Marth who sent the sweetest message on tumblr that I am still trying to find the right words to respond with. You are an utter sweetheart, I will reply soon, you've just overwhelmed me with how lovely you are.

Once upon a time, Geralt would be up with the sun, no matter how late he stayed up the night before. Which was usually 4am on a good night. All it had given him was an awful case of permanent exhaustion. But, with his job, he had mastered the art of sleeping whenever he could. There were times when sleep still came reluctantly to him but it was a lot less frequently and the sun no longer bothered him. What did wake him though was the warmth he’d been clinging to moving around and slipping from his arms.

“I’ll be back shortly, you keep snoozing.”

The voice was so soft and gentle, Geralt decided he could trust it so he grunted, burrowed into the wonderful scent of the blankets and went back to sleep. He only roused again when there was a warm hand on his shoulder.

“I’ve left some breakfast on the bedside table for you to have with your pills. My client will be here in ten minutes, we’ll be in the garden office for about an hour. I’d love it if you stayed but please don’t disturb the session.”

Geralt grunted in acknowledgement and didn’t even bristle when a hand brushed fondly down his cheek. If he had been feeling more confident, he’d have twisted to press a kiss to the palm. But it wasn’t the moment for it, not even in a half asleep state where his mind was still hazy and some weird warmth was seeping through him at the care being shown. He sat up a few minutes after the bedroom door closed. As promised, there were two slices of toast, buttered and liberally coated in honey, exactly how he had them the previous evening. Oddly touched, Geralt stood by the window and watched as Jaskier led his client through the garden and to what he would have guessed was a gym room. Obviously, it was an office and a space to see clients in. Clever, they never got to see the inside of the house. Which weirdly made Geralt feel a little bit special.

Having an hour to himself in the house, Geralt finished his toast, took his pills and looked at the bandage. Showering was going to be a pain if he didn’t want to get it wet. There was always the option of trying to wrap clingfilm around it or tape a bag over it. It would also give Geralt a chance to have a quiet look through the house with an excuse.

It wasn’t a large house by any means but it was quite nice. Geralt stuck his head through doors, only feeling a little guilty. The bedroom, he was familiar with and the bathroom was nothing out of the ordinary though a quick peek in the cabinet revealed a stash of make-up. That was something Geralt filed away for later. He peered into what he guessed to be a second bedroom, the only other door on the first floor. Expecting to see a spare bed or maybe a writing desk plus a couple of instruments, Geralt was a bit taken aback by the lavish emptiness. By that, he meant that there were a few bits of soft furnishing, a comfortable looking couch, a pillow resting against a wall and a small cabinet. The flooring was padded and soft in a way that was reminiscent of the private rooms of the club they met at. It clicked in that moment, this was Jaskier’s own playroom. Backing out, Geralt closed the door softly, feeling like he shouldn’t have gone in there. At least, not without Jaskier’s permission. Slinking down into the kitchen, Geralt felt like a naughty child sneaking around a friend’s house at a sleepover. Rather than rummage through the drawers for a bag or clingfilm, he ended up washing his plate from breakfast and pulling the sketchbook out from under the microwave again and flipped through that. Indirectly, he’d been given permission for that when Jaskier didn’t snatch it out of his hand. Making himself comfortable, Geralt began to slowly leaf through the pages, taking his time to appreciate the talent behind each drawing.

“Ah, you’re here!” Jaskier’s voice broke him out of his reverie and Geralt looked up, a little sheepish at being caught. There was also an awkward air between them, an uncertainty that hadn’t been present before the kiss.

Holding up the sketchbook, Geralt smiled. “Couldn’t keep away. You have talent.”

“I am a master of the seven arts,” Jaskier replied with an easy, relaxed grin. “How’s your arm?”

Now that he thought about it, Geralt found that it was painful but nothing he couldn’t ignore. Yet when painkillers were offered, he couldn’t resist. It was the kind of care Lambert or Eskel would show him, friendly and without any underlying expectation for anything in return. That was the only reason Geralt accepted.

“Were you tempted to bite back?” Jaskier asked, eyes on Geralt’s bandage.

There was a beat where Geralt had no idea what to say then he snorted, head tipping forward so his hair could hide his grin. Nobody needed to see his sharp toothed smile. What he didn’t expect was for a gentle hand to brush the strands from his face and tip his chin up. Jaskier stood closer to him, eyes dark and searching. He must have found what he was looking for because he didn’t hesitate in slotting their lips together.

“I want to get to know you better. Not just in scenes but outside of it.” They were standing close, Geralt could feel Jaskier’s breath on his face as he spoke.

“I can’t and won’t obey you 24/7,” Geralt warned. “I have my work and my life outside of sex.”

“Good.” The eager nod from Jaskier was followed up with another kiss. “I want a partner who indulges in things with me when we’re both in the mood.”

The ease with which Jaskier seemed to agree to Geralt’s demands should have been terrifying. Yet it settled something in his chest, a worry that Jaskier would take his submission to mean he was weak all round. Because Geralt was many things but a pushover he was not.

“Did you mention you had a scene in mind?” he asked, keen to show that just because Jaskier agreed to his terms didn’t mean he was going to withhold that kind of fun. The way Jaskier’s eyes darkened, gaze turning to his sketchbook that was still dangling between Geralt’s fingers suggested he had asked the right question.

“Remember that headspace from our first session?” Jaskier asked, waiting for Geralt to nod before continuing. “How would you feel about exploring that? Building a bit of trust between us so you can enjoy yourself fully.”

It sounded terrifying. Geralt hated the vulnerability that came with the headspace, had brushed against it a few times before but always lurched away from it, wanting to be fully aware of what was happening to him. As much as he gave himself over for anything someone wanted to inflict on him, he wanted to be aware of it and able to defend himself if things went further than he thought he could allow. The fact he’d never removed himself from a situation even when it was way more than he’d wanted was ignored. If he wanted to and really needed to, he could get out and that was the most important thing.

“Tell me,” he ordered instead, voice low and breathy.

“If you’re okay with ropes, I’d love to tie you into a harness and draw you while telling you how good you are.”

“You going to draw me like one of your French girls?” It sounded ridiculous and Geralt couldn’t figure out whether Jaskier was joking or not. If all they were going to do was wrap Geralt in rope and call him pretty names while Jaskier doodled, they might as well not call it a scene. “How do either of us get off in that scenario?”

Stepping closer, Jaskier cupped Geralt’s cheek. “Trust me, darling, I think we will both manage. Will you permit me to touch you when you’re floating?”

“Sure.” Geralt very much doubted Jaskier could achieve any of what he had planned but, feeling in a good mood, Geralt would let him try. “Where do you want to do this? Bedroom or your playroom?”

The fact Jaskier merely smiled told Geralt that he had been fully expected to explore the house without repercussions. It made him feel both relieved that he was allowed but also foolish for having exposed himself as a bit of a snoop.

“Playroom.” A hand snagged the sketchbook from Geralt’s fingers. “I’ll need to gather a couple of things before we start. If you need to do anything beforehand either, now’s your chance.”

It was the politest way anyone had ever told Geralt to go to the bathroom. Or maybe Jaskier was suggesting he have a drink. Either way, Geralt could take care of himself, he didn’t need someone telling him how to get ready for the least sexual sex he was about to experience.

Finally sorted and ready, Geralt made his way to the playroom and knocked on the door. The call of “come on in, no need to be polite” had Geralt stepping in. Nothing about the room seemed different, not really. Except the pillow had been moved to the centre of the open space, along with a few lengths of rope. On the sofa was the sketchbook, along with a couple of pencils. It was such a simple set up, Geralt wondered what the fuss had been about. Even Jaskier was still in the same clothes though his shirt had been opened up by a couple more buttons.

“Have you ever been tied up before?” Jaskier asked and Geralt nodded. It was quite nice in its own way, pulling at his muscles and making him fight to stay in a position that had him shaking. Until he’d been tipped over and spanked until tears pricked his eyes and come splashed over his chest. “Wonderful. Any discomfort or numbness, I need you to let me know, okay?”

Dismissively, Geralt gave a gruff agreement. He didn’t think Jaskier would get anywhere near his limits.

“When you’re ready, I’d like you to strip and kneel on the cushion, hands behind your back.” The quality of Jaskier’s voice had changed. It was still soft and warm but there was a hint of command there that suggested that not doing as asked could lead to less pleasant experiences. That wasn’t something Geralt had much interest in so he settled, as asked, on the pillow. It was surprisingly gentle on his knees.

Talking softly, Jaskier began tying the ropes over his chest in a diamond pattern and down his arms. There was room to shift around, to twist his arms within the cage of the ropes but not enough to allow for more than a bit of wriggling. Finally, rope went from his bound wrists to his ankles, giving the entire rope-work a feel of a comfortable cage.

“If at any point you feel uncomfortable, stop enjoying this or want out, just say so. Colour?”

“Green.”

“Good boy.” A hand fondly ran through Geralt’s hair and down his cheek before Jaskier stepped away. Geralt hadn’t even realised he had closed his eyes. Watching as Jaskier settled down on the sofa and picked up his sketchbook, Geralt wondered what would happen next. “You’re absolutely stunning like this,” Jaskier spoke up, eyes roving all over Geralt. “I could spend hours just staring at you, finding new things I’d love to worship about you. From your scars to the planes of your muscles to your wonderfully thick cock.”

Despite himself, Geralt shivered, confused about the praise being piled onto him. He didn’t understand what Jaskier seemed to find so alluring about him but a small, quiet part of him preened under it. However, the larger part of him squirmed, dipping his head and trying to hide.

“Darling, don’t hide from me. You’re too precious, blush so pretty. Let me see you.”

When phrased like that, Geralt didn’t really have it in him to disobey. Raising his head, he looked at Jaskier, heart wildly beating in his chest.

“There you are.” Jaskier looked so happy. “You can close your eyes if it’s easier. I just want to admire you and draw you.”

Geralt closed his eyes. There was the sound of pencil on paper and Jaskier humming.

“Your shoulders are so broad, that swell of your deltoid is something I thought only existed in airbrushed magazines and my dreams.”

Which was ridiculous, Geralt clearly existed outside of those realms. And he wasn’t even all that special. There were plenty of people he had seen who had better defined muscles. Hell, even Lambert and Eskel probably looked better. The scrape of pencil continued and Jaskier kept telling him what he was drawing, how pleasing it all looked. Oddly, the more he spoke, the more Geralt could accept that that was how Jaskier saw the world, saw him.

“There you go sweetheart,” Jaskier’s voice dropped a little more. “Nice and relaxed for me.”

He was right, Geralt noted, he was relaxing. The ropes no longer felt like a flimsy cage but rather something to hold him together. They were there to keep him comfortable and safe.

“So good for me. Utterly gorgeous.” The words washed over Geralt. They were Jaskier’s truth but they were warm and so sincere. It wasn’t up to Geralt to dissuade him from his beliefs. “You’re wonderful. I adore how you slowly sank down, graceful, beautiful. You’d let me do anything to you, wouldn’t you?”

Again, Jaskier was correct. Geralt wanted to open his mouth and agree but all he could manage was a small moan.

“What I’d love to do is kiss every inch of your skin, claim you as mine in every way. Let you claim me.” The sound of the pencil never stopped. “I’d want to give you the pleasure you give me. Show you how good you are by taking your cock between my lips. Suck you while you knelt for me, bound in my ropes.”

Geralt whimpered at the image, cock slowly but surely getting harder. It seemed to please Jaskier too as he redoubled the praise, describing how he was drawing the soft curve of his cock, imagining kissing it and running his fingers over it. 

It was like floating, just as Jaskier had described and Geralt’s instincts rebelled against the feeling, hating how vulnerable it made him. Somewhere ahead of him, Jaskier shushed him softly.

“You’re okay, Geralt. I’ve got you. Colour?”

After a moment’s hesitation where Geralt almost managed to spit out ‘yellow’ he finally said, “Green.”

Despite this, Jaskier seemed to tone things back down, talking softly to Geralt until the words blurred, the vicious thump of his heart settled into something calmer. Eyes still shut, Geralt sagged into the ropes, enjoying the way they pressed against his chest when his arms strained.

“Do you think you could come for me, like this?” Jaskier asked and Geralt moaned slightly at the thought. He hadn’t thought he would get hard but the way Jaskier had been talking about the things he wanted to do as he drew, Geralt had been sucked into the fantasy. “I’m going to come closer and touch you.”

It wasn’t a choice, Geralt was told what was happening and he welcomed it. There hadn’t been any floggers or canes out so even if Jaskier wanted to slap him about a bit, Geralt would withstand hands and fists. He tensed a little as he heard shifting around the room and finally looked up at Jaskier as he approached. What Geralt didn’t expect was for a gentle hand to cup his cheek as Jaskier sank to his knees opposite them.

“Divine. You look like you’re an ancient Greek statue come to life. Perfect and beautiful.” A thumb traced Geralt’s bottom lip and he let his mouth fall slack as his eyes slipped shut. Soft lips brushed against his as his chin was tipped up and Jaskier was kneeling up, leaning down into the kiss. It made Geralt gasp and tear away, mind sluggishly trying to find answers. This was a scene but they were kissing.

“Breathe, honey, breathe.” Jaskier rested a hand on the side of Geralt’s neck. “You’ve done so well. Let me reward you.”

The words kept Geralt steady, he managed to stay vulnerable as Jaskier had asked him. Letting go was almost easy because Jaskier was opposite him, had promised to keep him safe. Geralt exhaled slowly, air rushing from his lungs.

“Stunning.” There was awe in Jaskier’s voice. “Perfect submission.”

His breath hitched and Geralt looked up in time to meet blue eyes clouded by lust. The hand on his neck had slipped down to his shoulder and squeezed lightly as Jaskier gasped with his climax. A warm pride filled Geralt at that. He had been the cause of Jaskier’s pleasure, he’d done well. Those were the last real thoughts he had as Jaskier praised him and a hand wrapped around his cock. His orgasm almost slipped from him with a soft keen, the pleasure more of a soft burn through his whole body and Geralt slumped into a surprisingly warm and solid body. It didn’t matter though, he was safe. That was the mantra circling through his mind, allowing him those moments of absolute, floating bliss.

Gradually, the world filtered back and Geralt blinked his eyes open. The rope was still around his chest but his arms and legs were free. At some point he had been gently tipped to the side so he rested against a broad chest. A hand was stroking through his hair and someone was humming something soft above him.

“You’re okay.” It was Jaskier, quiet and gentle, holding him like Geralt was something special and in need of protection. “I’ve got you. Take all the time you need.”

Shame made Geralt struggle to sit up. He was disoriented, uncertain of what had just happened. He had been warm and fuzzy one minute and now he was on edge.

“Easy darling, easy.” Jaskier reached for him slowly and brought Geralt back, helping him curl into his chest. There was a bottle of water next to him which made Geralt realise how thirsty he was. Almost as though reading his mind, Jaskier reached for the bottle and opened it for him, helping guide it into shaking hands. “You’re alright.”

And the more he thought about it, the more Geralt realised he was. There was no pain, no fear, no feeling of being a burden. They’ve both come but Jaskier wasn’t rushing him to leave or pull himself together. There was relief mixed in with gratitude and Geralt felt a fresh rush of emotions pass through him. All through it, Jaskier’s voice was soft and gentle, reassuring him that it was all okay, that he did well, that he was perfect - even if Geralt didn’t feel that.

Done with the water, Geralt was surprised that it was taken from his hand before he could even try to put it on the ground. It stayed within reach but far enough that it was unlikely to be knocked over. Over time, the gentle strokes became a bit more firm, rubbing over muscles that Geralt didn’t realise were exhausted even though he never used them.

“Ready to take the ropes off?”

Geralt nodded and struggled to sit up. However, Jaskier was there to guide him into a steady position. The ropes were deftly undone and Geralt breathed harshly through his nose as they fell away. He looked up at Jaskier who offered him a wide, easy smile, hand still on his shoulder.

“What the hell was that?” Geralt asked.

“Submission.”

There were so many questions Geralt had, about why he had never felt like that before, how Jaskier had been able to do it with nothing more than rope, words and a gentle touch. It was the most rested he’d felt in a long time even though he was exhausted in the same moment. None of it made sense but Geralt wasn’t sure if he was allowed to ask.

“What did you draw?” Not the question he intended but it was the only one he felt he could ask.

Almost eagerly, Jaskier stepped away and pulled the sketchbook from the sofa. In it was the start of a sketch, Geralt could recognise the shape of the body as his, with lines of rope crossing over him, scar peeking out from under them.

“I wasn’t sure how you felt about your face being drawn. I can always add that in later if you’ll permit me,” Jaskier said. He looked a little shy about it.

“Your sketch. Do what you’d like,” Geralt shot back. One look at Jaskier’s face and he added, “It looks good. You have talent.”

That was met with a bright “thank you” and a smile. Even better was the small kiss that brushed against his cheek. Maybe, Geralt mused, he could get the hang of this.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two steps forward, one step back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extra cookies to the two people who left comments about Jaskier calling Geralt 'boy'. You are absolutely right, Geralt did ask not to be called that, didn't he? But Jaskier is only human and he makes mistakes, even if Geralt's world views frame him in a different light.
> 
> In other words, who here thought things would be plain sailing? I am so very sorry.

Things seemed to progress almost naturally from that night onward. Geralt was definitely shaken by their scene but not in a way he was used to. His mind kept circling back to that feeling of warm safety that Jaskier managed to lull him into. It was everything he had ever craved and everything else from before paled in comparison. Those few minutes of being tethered to reality and yet being so free was like a hit of a drug Geralt had craved all his life without knowing he was addicted.

It also made him shy about approaching Jaskier. Especially because there had been the talk of maybe this turning into more than just mutually beneficial orgasms. Now there was a muddle of emotions piling into their arrangement and Geralt had no idea how to feel about it. In the end, he decided he could treat them as two separate entities. Usually, his partners before were friends first, lovers later and those who he bedded were only ever for a couple of nights at most. This thing with Jaskier was happening in all the wrong order and he had no idea just how to approach it. Then again, Jaskier had said he was human first so maybe, if Geralt separated it out in his head, he could get to know Jaskier while who he termed dom Jaskier in his head could be the one he had sex with.

With such a mental distinction in place, Geralt felt a little more comfortable with the budding relationship. If he could even call it that. Though since he had encountered Jaskier, he hadn’t felt the pressing need to search anyone else out, not even the urge for a quiet drink in a bar where someone might approach him. More settled with things, it was easier for Geralt to reach out and suggest drinks at his place. After all, Jaskier had already been there. And given how easily they got on the night Geralt got bitten, he didn’t anticipate any issues.

Jaskier showed up on time, a bottle of wine in hand like a good guest. It was just as well that Geralt had suggested dinner and had cooked for them both. He wanted to make a good impression outside of the bedroom.

Food went down well, Jaskier delighted at the steak and sweet potato fries. He didn’t even frown when Geralt added ketchup to his plate, instead, he grabbed the bottle and put a small splodge on his own plate.

“I’ve actually not tried steak with ketchup before, I was brought up being told it was a thing simply not done.” Geralt eyed him suspiciously but watched as Jaskier cut a bit of steak off, shoved it into the centre of the ketchup blob and popped it into his mouth with a hum. “Yeah, I don’t get the big deal. It’s literally steak and ketchup.”

The wine went surprisingly nicely with the food. While Geralt was more for beer, he actually enjoyed Jaskier’s selection. All too soon, they had empty plates and an empty bottle on the table and both of them were smiling at the other, Jaskier more openly but that didn’t mean Geralt was any less fond.

“Why don’t we get more comfortable?” Geralt asked and led the way to the couch. “Beer?”

“Sure, why not?”

They settled on either end of the couch, a socially acceptable distance away. It was nice but Geralt, for all his standoffishness felt like something was missing. And he knew exactly what that something could be. Half way through an anecdote from Jaskier about the perils of stand-up comedy, Geralt shuffled closer and pressed their shoulders together. That was much better. Even more so when Jaskier pressed into the touch with a happy little hum before continuing.

“But if I hadn’t given that a go, I don’t think I would have learned to play the guitar and then-” he waved a hand in the air to signify the importance of his point, “-I wouldn’t have met Priscilla and gotten into the kink scene.”

That was a rather roundabouts way of getting into something but Geralt could kind of appreciate it. His journey wasn’t quite as convoluted, more that he kept getting into fights and Yennefer had suggested that he ask someone to politely beat him up rather than annoy strangers into it with his staring and brooding. When he’d laughed and asked if she was volunteering, she shrugged and said “why not?” which was how it all started.

“How old were you when you started?” he asked, blunt as ever. It had Jaskier laughing.

“I was still very babyfaced when I began.”

“You’re still very babyfaced,” Geralt rebuffed gruffly and gave Jaskier a pointed look.

“Ah, but this babyface is a decade or so older now.”

That made Geralt wonder whether Jaskier ever got typecast when he began. Much like a lot of people thought Geralt would be a dominant, Jaskier probably suffered the other end of the spectrum where most assumed he’d take on a sugarbaby or bratty submissive role.

Draining his beer can, Geralt settled back with a sigh and a small burp. Much to his delight, Jaskier did the same. They sat in silence until he felt Jaskier stiffen a little, as though he was about to say something. Intrigued, Geralt let out a questioning “hmm?”

“I just keep thinking about that photo you sent with the toys. Do you have much of a collection?”

Of all the things to ask. Geralt snorted and stood up, offering Jaskier a hand, pulling him along to the bedroom. “Why don’t you have a look?”

Everything was still bundled into one and Geralt pulled the box out, gesturing for Jaskier to have at it. They settled on the floor and emptied the whole box out. It made Jaskier let out a low whistle.

“You’ve certainly got a collection.” His hands hovered over the toys, pulling out the three he was familiar with and setting them aside. Once done, he began enthusiastically rifling through the various whips and canes. “Do you enjoy using these? They weren’t in your picture.”

Really, Geralt wasn’t the biggest fan of them. But he’d learnt to tolerate them for Yennefer’s sake. It was so easy to slip into that mindset where he could nod noncommittally and let others do all the figuring out. If Jaskier wanted to try them out, he wouldn’t object. With that in mind, he took his t-shirt off and knelt with the posture Yennefer had taught him.

“If you want,” he trailed off and turned his back on Jaskier, head dipped down and out of harm’s way. He could head Jaskier behind him, breath catching. However, Geralt didn’t turn, knew all too well how dangerous that would be, a sudden move would mean a misplaced hit, could even result in a cane to the face.

“You submit so readily,” Jaskier sighed and moved around behind him, standing to get into position. “You were made for this, weren’t you?”

Thanks to their drinking, Jaskier’s dirty talk wasn’t quite as wonderful as usual but Geralt didn’t care, he was too caught up in the idea of pleasing Jaskier. This was play he was familiar with, knew what to expect. In a way, it was a relief because now he knew Jaskier wanted it the same as any other dom. The whistle of the cane through the air and the first thwack of blooming pain across his back was both an ache and a balm to his soul.

“Good boy,” Jaskier murmured from behind him and Geralt gritted his teeth. He shouldn’t have bothered telling Jaskier he hated being called ‘boy’ because it was wasted breath. Still, if this made Jaskier happy, if it meant that sometimes he would give Geralt the kind of play they’d had last time, then it was worth putting up with. His thoughts were interrupted by a soft “colour?”

“Green.” As if Geralt would ever say anything else. Yennefer had stopped asking once Geralt had told her to stop. It was one of the few times she’d actually listened.

Another hit landed along his back and Geralt shuddered into it. The praise that went with it did little to soothe the sharp ache. It burned long after each hit but Geralt had offered himself up, had seen the look of interest in Jaskier’s eyes as he handled the toys. Really, Geralt was just giving what he saw as his end of their deal. He wanted to submit, Jaskier wanted to dominate. That was all there was to it.

Another query of “colour?” had Geralt repeating his previous reply. It made Jaskeir suck in a breath. “You’re always green, aren’t you?”

The next hit came a little harder and Geralt lurched with it, a soft grunt left him. It didn’t seem to discourage Jaskier who bit out a harsher “colour?” and Geralt replied a gritted “green.” It sounded like Jaskier was getting frustrated behind him, a growl of “stubborn boy” had Geralt wondering whether this was the real Jaskier. The one who lured him in with sweetness, a kind touch, only to turn everything Geralt had laid at his feet into a weapon. Really, Geralt wasn’t all that surprised but he was fighting an awful pit of disappointment eating away at his heart.

Another hit, it was much harder than the ones before and Geralt actually lost his position, falling forwards under the sharp burst of pain with a grunt. The burn seeped through his skin, making it tingle and itch as though something was trickling down his back. He pushed himself back up into position and awaited punishment for getting out of position.

There was a clatter of something falling to the ground behind him but Geralt didn’t turn. He wasn’t that stupid, especially not when he suspected it was a ruse to make him get even further into trouble for worse punishment.

“Lute.”

The word didn’t make sense coming from Jaskier and Geralt froze, head bowed, trying to figure out what was going on.

“Geralt. I’m so fucking sorry. Please. Say something.” There was a warm body kneeling next to him, hands fluttering over his back and his shirt was being pressed over the burning pain in his shoulder.

“Why’d you stop?”

Jaskier looked horrified for a moment before his mouth pressed into a thin line. The muscles of his jaw clenched and he pulled the t-shirt away to look at the damage.

“I can’t do this. I’m sorry.” He moved perfunctorily, going through the motions without his usual kindness and warmth. Geralt’s back was wiped down, the cloth came away red with blood. At least the bleeding seemed to have stopped by the time Jaskier was smearing soothing cream into the welts the cane had left behind.

Once done, he looked at Geralt. “How are you feeling?” Before Geralt could answer, Jaskier huffed out a frustrated groan. “I don’t know why I bother asking. You’ll only say you’re fine. I’m sorry, I can’t deal with this right now. We’re too drunk. This shouldn’t have happened. I’m going to go now.”

He got up and Geralt made to follow, only to watch Jaskier grab his keys and phone from the side and the door closed loudly behind him. It left Geralt standing in the aftermath, with sex toys he didn’t like spilled on his bedroom floor and a sinking feeling in his chest. Fuck.


	11. Chapter 11

Fuck. This was not at all how Geralt had planned for the evening to go. The pleasant buzz of alcohol from earlier turned into something bitter that Geralt couldn’t shed like an uncomfortable jumper. He tried to ignore the confusion welling in his chest in favour of wondering where he’d gone wrong. Because everything he’d done was to appease Jaskier. He took the hits, didn’t complain, didn’t even snap at being called ‘boy’. As far as he was concerned, he had done everything a sub should. Yet Jaskier had stormed out in a cold fury that left Geralt more scared than the pain of caning and consequences of being a brat had. He was too drunk to deal with the emotions though. Which made him realise something else. Jaskier was also drunk. And he’d just gotten in his car. Shit.

Running out of the house, Geralt was momentarily relieved to find Jaskier’s Smart was still where he’d parked it. The lights were off so he wasn’t about to pull away either. Any reprieve from that was gone the moment Geralt saw Jaskier, head buried in arms leaning over the steering wheel.

Now that Geralt saw Jaskier and was reassured that he wasn’t drunk and driving, he actually had no idea what to do. His neighbours were going to have a field day if they looked out their windows and saw Geralt, topless and sporting several bruising welts on his back while looking helplessly at someone slumped in a car on his driveway. Hesitantly, Geralt knocked on the window and watched as Jaskier’s head shot up. His eyes weren’t red rimmed from crying but there was a set to his face that made Geralt think he was on the verge even if he was fighting it.

“What?” Jaskier snapped.

“You’re drunk. Come in, sleep it off.” Geralt could see Jaskier trying to find a way to refuse. But given the size of his car, it wasn’t like he could sleep in it comfortably. “I’ll take the couch. You can have the bed.”

That, at least, seemed to get Jaskier moving. He stepped out of the car, looking like barely contained rage had taken up residence in his chest not that he’d decided what to feel. In a way, Geralt found it was no different to an angry drunk at work. Those, he could deal with and relatively easily too. He was braced for the onslaught but it never came.

“I’m taking the couch.” Jaskier announced after a long moment of obvious internal debate.

“Okay.” It wasn’t something Geralt was going to fight him over. It wasn’t worth the effort. Instead, he dropped his gaze. “I’m sorry.”

A loud sigh from Jaskier had his throat tightening. This was worse than being hit. The emotional turmoil was starting to really set him on edge. He didn’t know what to expect when Jaskier gently turned him back towards the house.

“This is a conversation I want to have when sober and definitely not in public. But I need to know, what are you sorry for?”

They were back in the house, sat on the far ends of the sofa again. This time though, there was no comfortable slumping towards each other. Jaskier was keeping very much to his space and wasn’t inviting any kind of approach from Geralt.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t please you?” Geralt offered hesitantly. He watched as Jaskier’s face morphed through a series of emotions before falling into something closed off and sad. “I didn’t react to your goading?”

That was definitely the wrong thing to say as Jaskier looked wounded.

“What kind of monster do you take me for? That I’d goad you? Or punish you when we said it’s not something we’d do?”

“You also said you wouldn’t call me ‘boy’,” Geralt added quietly.

Whatever Jaskier had been about to say, his jaw snapped shut and he looked at Geralt with wide eyes. “I forgot. I’m sorry.” There was a groan that worked its way out from deep in his throat and Jaskier rubbed his face before looking at Geralt. “I fucked up big time this evening. But you did too. We need to talk about this when we’re sober.”

The ominous “we need to talk” made Geralt weary. He’d heard that expression before, from Yennefer, who had said pretty much those exact words to him before leaving him. Not that she was ever really his to begin with. But Jaskier was right, they were too drunk to talk this through in a level headed manner. What they needed was to drink some water, Geralt should probably take some painkillers for his back and then sleep. Leaving Jaskier on the couch, Geralt grabbed a drink, downed it with pills before taking another glass to Jaskier.

“You’re welcome to the bed,” he tried once more.

“Go to bed, Geralt.” Jaskier didn’t even look at him as he spoke, eyes fixed on his half empty glass.

Silently, Geralt nodded and turned. From the doorway, he turned with a soft “good night, Jaskier” and crawled into his bed, stepping over all the toys. It wasn’t like they were going to do any more harm where they were. Lights off, Geralt turned onto his front and tried to sleep, ignoring the way his skin crawled in the worst of ways. It was something he’d grown used to doing, even if he hated it. However, it was easily forgotten in favour of picking out the sound of someone crying in the silence of the night. There was nothing else it could have been, the stifled sobs and sniffles. As much of a stubborn, arrogant bastard that Geralt could be, he wasn’t heartless. His mind flashed back to the care Jaskier had shown him once the ropes had come off. Part of Geralt’s marvel had been the lack of feeling like his skin was three sizes too small and everything was bursting. Instead, he had felt good. Whatever Jaskier had done, Geralt wanted to give back some of the comfort at least. Rolling out of bed, he padded into the living room, watching the miserable lump shudder on his couch.

“What can I do?” He asked, lingering by the door, unsure of his welcome.

“You?” There was a scathing disbelief in Jaskier’s voice. “Nothing. I don’t need anything from you.”

It was like a slap to the face and Geralt nodded. He could give Jaskier his privacy and dignity to cry in peace. This wasn’t Geralt’s issue to fix up. Turning, he headed back to bed, almost tripping on a whip. He kicked it viciously and pretended not to hear another, less muffled sob from his living room. It wasn’t his fault, Jaskier was the one who lost control, who hit him and then regretted it. Which surely meant Geralt was the innocent party. This wasn’t his fault. Only, there was a niggle in the back of his mind, even if he didn’t feel he was at fault, there was still someone crying his heart out on his couch. Geralt wasn’t the kind of person who could ignore that, even when he’d been pushed away at his first attempt to help. If he gave up at work after someone told him to get lost, he would make for a very poor nurse. Steeling himself, Geralt walked back into the living room and sat down on the floor just out of reach of the sofa.

“What do you need?” Not what Geralt could do, it had been made abundantly clear that he wasn’t able to be whatever Jaskier wanted but it was all they had. The crying from the couch became a little less heartbroken and uncontrolled but words weren’t coming. “I need you to tell me what you need in this moment.” That was Geralt’s work voice, calm but firm, it often worked wonders. He didn’t expect Jaskier to laugh in his face.

“Do you not see the irony of that?” There was a hysterical edge to Jaskier’s voice. “I need you to leave me the fuck alone so this doesn’t lead into an argument right now.”

Like the most stubborn of patients, Jaskier was refusing to communicate. It was frustrating and Geralt didn’t like it. He didn’t understand Jaskier’s fury because Geralt had been the one to offer the chance to play earlier. In short, he’d made the bed and it had been his job to lie in it. His silence must have been misunderstood because Jaskier let out a harsh sigh.

“May I have another glass of water if you’re not going to leave me to my misery? And if you have a hot water bottle, that would be nice.”

While Geralt didn’t have a water bottle, he did have a lavender scented bean bag that worked the same. He bunged it into the microwave roughly and got a fresh glass of water while it warmed up. It gave him a minute to ponder what Jaskier had meant about not seeing the irony. While Geralt wasn’t dumb, he was obviously missing something because he didn’t see the irony at all, he was trying to take care of Jaskier because it was the decent thing to do. It had nothing to do with any kind of sex act. Geralt stood firmly by his opinion that he had asked for the caning so he should have been able to take whatever Jaskier dished out. In fact, he had and it was Jaskier acting funny about it. Thankfully, the microwave pinged and put an end to his thoughts before he could get truly annoyed by the state of things.

“Here.” He handed Jaskier the warm, fluffy beanbag first and watched as it was pulled to his chest of all places, curled around in an almost pitiful way. “And your water.”

“Thank you.” The feisty snark seemed to have melted from Jaskier and all that was left was a hollow shell. “Good night, Geralt.”

Summarily dismissed once more, Geralt knew when to retreat. He returned to his bed, still unsettled but knowing he had done everything he could have. Yet, despite knowing that, he couldn’t get the memory of Jaskier clutching at the heated bag out of his mind.

Morning brought regret and Geralt rolled out of his bed. He wasn’t certain whether he wanted to find the couch empty or Jaskier still there. It was all a mess and, without the veil of alcohol, he found himself quite frustrated.

Shuffling into the living room, Geralt saw Jaskier sat on the couch, a fresh glass of water on the floor by his feet. At least he looked a little less wrecked than last night, eyes only a little puffy but not red rimmed.

“Geralt.” The greeting had a slightly chilly tone to it but Geralt was rapidly finding himself immune to it.

“Jaskier.” Two could play at this game. His response seemed to make Jaskier pull himself together, possibly out of spite than anything else.

“How’s your shoulder?” It wasn’t a question Geralt expected and he automatically reached to touch it with a gruff “fine.” Which had Jaskier rolling his eyes. “Are you ever honest about how you actually feel?”

Baffled, Geralt blinked and frowned a little. “It is fine. It aches a little but I can move and it’s not throbbing. You did a good job.”

That took a bit of wind out of Jaskier’s sail and he reached for his water to have an excuse for the silence. However, it also seemed enough to make him nod firmly, whatever was on his mind had obviously solidified.

“I may have patched you up but I did a shit job of pretty much everything else last night. And I owe you an apology for that.”

“I don’t think you did anything wrong,” Geralt replied, uncertain why Jaskier was so hung up on it.

He didn’t expect Jaskier to raise a hand to silence him and launch into a half angry rant. “I didn’t spend half the night awake and thinking just to brush this shitshow under the rug. As I said, I fucked up but so did you.

“Firstly, we shouldn’t have even considered a scene while so drunk. There was no discussion, no agreed scene, nothing. That was a mistake on both our parts.” Jaskier broke off to take a breath but his hand was still up as though holding Geralt into place. “Secondly, I’m sorry for taking my frustration out on you. Yes, you need to communicate better but that was no excuse for me to let anger get the better of me.” After a pause, he looked Geralt up and down. “You do understand why I worded out, don’t you?”

Hesitant to answer, Geralt nodded, “You weren’t having a good time.”

A muscle twitched in Jaskier’s jaw and he looked at Geralt. Really looked. “I wasn’t, no. Not because I don’t like canes or I don’t like playing with you. But your lack of communication and disregard for everything I’ve asked made me angry. I wanted to make you use your safe word. I was so angry, I actually wanted to hurt you.”

The words sat heavily between them and Geralt understood it on one level. But he had been able to take the hits, Jaskier could have worked his anger out. If things had gotten out of hand, Geralt would have been able to stand and subdue him before it got too far.

“I spent most night wondering how I could have fallen that far.” Jaskier sounded exhausted. “Because you don’t trust me to stop when you need. And I no longer trust you to voice said needs.” He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I like you, I really do, Geralt. But I don’t think we should do anything even remotely like a scene.”

“You want to stop our play sessions,” Geralt concluded. It made sense. He’d upset Jaskier, made him question whether he was a good person. Liking someone wasn’t enough to want to indulge in such play with them. Geralt wasn’t enough for Jaskier despite taking everything that was doled out.

“Yes.” At least Jaskier wasn’t beating around the bush and was honest, much like Yennefer had been. “At least until we can trust each other again. I need to know you’ll be honest and tell me when things aren’t going well. And you need to believe that I’ll stop. My pleasure comes from taking care of you, not hurting you.”

Simply put, Geralt didn’t quite understand. He put so much more than trust in his partner’s hands whenever he submitted to them. That was part of the appeal, or so he’d been told. It didn’t matter though, not when his brain caught up with what Jaskier was saying. No playing until they could trust each other. But how could they trust each other if they didn’t engage in scenes?

Licking his lips, Geralt asked, “How?”

“How do I find pleasure in taking care of you?” Jaskier echoed. “How do you take pleasure in a warm brownie slathered in cream and topped with raspberries? It’s just good. Not everyone likes it but to some it’s the best thing in the world. Taking care of a submissive is my brownie.”

Not quite the question Geralt had in mind but it did answer a slightly less pressing question in a very roundabouts way.

“What does that mean for us?”

“I don’t know.” At least Jaskier was honest and upfront, once again so much like Yennefer had been. “There’s a few things we need to be very clear about because obviously things have gone a bit tits up. I want to be your boyfriend, not your therapist. I don’t expect you to bring your work into a relationship so don’t expect me to. If you want therapy, I’ll point you in the direction of some trustworthy people but I will not be responsible for your mental health. Not as a partner and equal. If I broke my arm, I wouldn’t come to you expecting to have it sorted in the kitchen while we boil the kettle.”

“You think I need therapy?” Geralt asked, bypassing everything else Jaskier said. He couldn’t let himself hope about the boyfriend comment because it wasn’t something he’d anticipated or dared hope for.

“Your words, not mine. But if you think you’d want to explore that avenue, I can give you contact details.”

“I don’t need therapy.” Geralt was firm about it. If he went into therapy, it would be admitting defeat, that he was broken and unable to cope by himself. And he didn’t want to think about the ramifications at work. In a high stress job he couldn’t afford to be considered weak.

Shrugging, Jaskier nodded. “That’s your decision. But I stand by what I said. I want a boyfriend and an equal, not someone who wants free therapy in an unofficial capacity.”

There was no getting around the next question and Geralt was quiet as he asked, “Boyfriend?”

They stared at each other for a moment before Jaskier nodded.

“As much as we’ve done things in absolutely the wrong order, I can’t deny that I’m intrigued by you. I’d like to get to know you. It feels like this is what Cahir and I were missing and what he found with his boyfriends.”

It was something Geralt had felt too, a spark of interest and a feeling of familiarity despite not knowing Jaskier all too well. The times they just sat on the couch and talked were nice. More than nice. He stood, swaying a little on his feet as he tried to fathom out what now. Because despite his words, Jaskier still felt like he was on the other side of a glacier.

“What now?”

“Now? Now I apologise again for my part of the clusterfuck that was last night. I shouldn’t have taken you up on the offer of using a cane. And I forgot I said I won’t call you ‘boy’. Plus,” he actually looked ashamed there. “I’m sorry I stormed out last night after bare minimum care for you. I screwed both of us over on that one.”

It felt like it was Geralt’s turn and that he was expected to apologise, even if he wasn’t entirely certain what he was saying sorry for. “Sorry for suggesting the cane - I don’t even like canes.”

That had Jaskier’s expression dropping but he didn’t interrupt, so Geralt continued. “And I’m sorry for not being honest?”

The fact that it came out more as a question than anything else was a bit embarrassing but Geralt honestly thought he was doing the right thing, doing what Jaskier wanted of him.

“Geralt.” His name sounded so careful, so tentative. “I know we said no play. But could we go back into your bedroom and could you help me understand which toys you do and don’t like?”

They made their way back into the bedroom where the toys were still strewn around. The cane mockingly in the middle of the floor. In a few short moves, Geralt gathered up the three items from the floor that he liked and presented them to Jaskier.

“None of the others?” Geralt watched as Jaskier’s eyes widened, looking over the whips and canes. “Geralt, why do you have these if you don’t like them?”

“Yennefer liked them.” Usually plush, pink lips pressed into a firm, white line. “I wanted to please her.”

Looking up at Geralt, Jaskier took a deep breath. “Do you want them used on you?” The question made Geralt shake his head. “Then may I suggest you bin them? Or sell them?”

“But they were expensive.” That was the only argument Geralt had but Jaskier didn’t seem to care.

“If you don’t like them and don’t want them used on you, then there’s no point in keeping them.”

Hesitantly, Geralt set his three toys to the side on the bed and picked up the cane. It had caused him so much confusion and misery. With a decisive move he snapped it in half, making Jaskier jump a little.

“Sorry.” He was genuinely apologetic for making Jaskier flinch.

Together, they gathered the collection of toys and put them in a bag. They wouldn’t be binned immediately but it was one step closer and Geralt suddenly had more space in his wardrobe.

“I think-” Jaskier mused as they walked back to the sofa and sat down, closer than before, “if and when we bring play back into the equation, we are going to have to go right back to basics. For both our benefits.”

Easily, Geralt nodded along. Because it felt like he was being given a second chance even though he hadn’t willingly messed up the first one. Despite everything, he still had Jaskier, hell, had a boyfriend after the whole clusterfuck of the previous night.

“When will that be?”

“I don’t know. When we’re both ready and have trust in each other.” Not the answer Geralt had been hoping for. But Jaskier looked up at him with a small, hopeful smile. “But if it’s on the cards, I could really do with a cuddle from my boyfriend.”

That was easy enough to comply with, Geralt shuffled a little closer and opened his arm up. He was a little taken aback by the speed with which Jaskier snuggled in and sighed in contentment.

“Fuck, I needed this. I haven’t dropped so hard in, quite possibly, ever. I’ve called in sick because I couldn’t work like this.” A flicker of guilt flashed through Geralt and he squeezed around Jaskier a little, apologising in his own, silent way. “Utterly unrelated but did I ever tell you about the pigeon that held a grudge against me? All because I accidentally kicked a crumb out of the way and it pecks the ground instead of bread?”

It sounded like a curious story and Geralt hummed in question, hoping to encourage Jaskier to talk. And talk Jaskier did, enough for both of them. It was nice, Geralt could chip in if he wanted to but there was no pressure. They talked, trying to fill the rift that had appeared between them last night. However, nothing could last and the alarm on Geralt’s phone went off, reminding him he had the late shift at work he needed to get ready for.

He got dressed, so did Jaskier and they stood by their cars, looking a little lost.

“Why don’t we go out for a meal at the weekend?” Jaskier asked. “Just a nice date.”

“Sure. Sounds good.” Geralt nodded and watched, surprised as Jaskier shuffled closer, pressed a kiss to his cheek and walked back to his car. With a final wave, he got in his car and drove off.

All musings of what had happened flew from Geralt’s mind as he got to work. It was all a mess, Eskel had been pulled over the cover for paediatrics because they had three nurses off sick and an incident with a teenager had come in that included a police escort. In short, it was pandemonium. Lambert barely had time to wave at him before Geralt was sucked in, trying to work. He hadn’t meant to overhear Eskel one bay over.

“I need you to tell me what hurts so I can help.” He had his soft, soothing tone which Geralt only ever heard when things were looking bad.

“Why?”

“Because I’m no mind reader. If all I see is a bruise on your face, I can only treat that. How am I to know if you’re hiding a twisted ankle or a cut to your back if you don’t tell me? I can only help heal what you show me.”

Jaskier was far from Geralt’s mind as he listened but suddenly, he was all he could think about. There was some parallel between what Jaskier had been saying all along and what Eskel had said. It made Geralt’s chest lurch painfully. While he didn’t believe it, he just might have started to understand.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone needs a bit of a breather and a bit of softness after the last couple of chapters.

Perhaps the most surprising thing was that, even after their quite spectacular argument (could it even be called that if there was no shouting? Geralt wasn’t sure.), Jaskier texted him. It was a little stilted at first, Geralt feeling like it was a forced conversation. But the persistence and randomness of the messages had him rapidly thawing out. Occasionally, he’d get a picture of a doodle or a pretty bird that had landed in Jaskier’s garden. It wore Geralt down and he found himself sending the odd picture back. At first, it was just random, pretty things he found; a flower bouquet someone sent in as thanks, a worm he saw on the sidewalk and rescued by putting under a bush. But, feeling brave, he sent a message.

[Want to see Roach?]

He watched as the three little dots appear and disappear and Jaskier started typing then stopped before trying again. It took agonisingly long and Geralt wondered whether he’d been too forward.

[I don’t know which is more disturbing: the idea that you call you dick Roach or if you have a pet cockroach. I’m at work and I am a bit squeamish around creepy crawlies so I may have to suggest if it’s the former, we save that for after 6pm. If it’s the latter, I’m sure Roach is lovely but I’m not strong enough to admire him.]

Wordy as ever. Geralt snorted and shook his head. Snapping a picture of Roach, he sent it, following it up with a [Roach] as explanation.

His phone rang not three seconds after the messages showed as read.

“Are you telling me that you have had this magnificent beast as a companion all along and only mention him now?”

“Her,” Geralt corrected automatically. “You’ve heard of her before but not seen her. She’s special.”

There was a silence and Geralt realised the implications of his words. If Roach was special and he was sharing her then that made Jaskier special too.

“Thank you for sharing her picture with me. I’m sorry I forgot your horse was called Roach.” There was a quiet quality to Jaskier’s voice.

Not sure how to respond, Geralt looked at his horse. “She’s named after the fish.”

“Naturally,” Jaskier agreed. “I actually need to go work, I called you between clients and the next one is already here and I’m running five minutes late. I just really wanted to hear your voice.”

“I like your voice too.” As soon as the words were out, Geralt squeezed his eyes shut, berating himself for being so stupid. It was met with a small, fond laugh and Geralt bit his lip.

“You can hear more of it in person on Saturday night. I’ve booked us a table for six,” Jaskier said. “I really look forward to seeing you then.”

Somehow, magically, Geralt managed to wrap the conversation up, say goodbye and sound like a regular, functional human being. Which wasn’t a rarity as such, unless Jaskier was involved. He would just have to do better on Saturday. Pushing his worries aside, he turned back to brushing Roach down and ensuring she was fine after their ride. As always, she was absolutely okay and Geralt was just fussing over her.

Come Saturday, Geralt worked the early shift, finishing at two which gave him a nice chunk of time to get ready. As Jaskier had suggested, he didn’t wear anything fancy but he still made a bit of an effort. While it had been a while since he had an actual date, he still knew how to dress to impress. Dark, tight jeans and a black shirt that was half open plus a leather jacket. It was a look that would get him appreciative looks, he knew that. To top it all off, he put his hair up into a messy bun, wanting to keep it out of the way but a little too lazy and not practised enough at braiding to do anything nicer. It was okay though, Geralt reasoned, Jaskier had seen him in a lot less and in greater disarray, so it wasn’t like he had to make a great first impression.

Brushing his teeth just before he left, Geralt hopped in his car and drove to town. They’d agreed to meet by the restaurant and he intended to be there in good time. Much to his surprise, Jaskier was already there, bouncing on his toes and he craned his neck to look up and down the street eagerly. As soon as he spotted Geralt, he was merrily all but skipping towards him.

“Look at you, eager beaver. Here all early!”

“Says the man who was already waiting for me,” Geralt rebuffed but he was smiling. This, he could do. Even if it was Jaskier who seemed to suck in all his brain cells and turn them into smiles and enthusiasm thrown back at Geralt.

Despite the words being a light bard, Jaskier just snorted at it and waved Geralt off playfully. It was an oddly welcome change and Geralt felt himself relax into the evening already. Perhaps that was Jaskier’s superpower, the ability to put anyone at ease in almost any situation. They walked into the restaurant, Geralt gallantly holding the door open for his date.

“Ever had Ethiopian before?” Jaskier asked as they settled.

“Nope.”

If anything, that seemed to make Jaskier even more excited. He began chattering away about the food and Geralt nodded along. As long as the food wasn’t too spicy, he would eat it.

“We’ll get a sample platter for two. And if you like any of it, we can always order more or get it next time we come here.”

The quiet assuredness of the next time warmed Geralt and a small smile tugged at his lips as he remembered something.   
  
“What?” There was an answering softness to Jaskier, as if he already knew what Geralt was thinking but didn’t want to assume.

“Nothing,” Geralt shrugged but immediately followed it up with a quiet, “I’m on a date with my boyfriend.”

The sharp, clear laugh from Jaskier startled him a little but a warm hand clutched at his lower arm in soft reassurance. It also server as a counter lever as Jaskier pulled himself, chair and all, closer to Geralt. They were side by side rather than opposite each other and Jaskier easily pushed their shoulders together, briefly tipping his head to rest against Geralt too.

“I like hearing that from your lips.” The admission surprised Geralt and he looked at Jaskier. His stare was met head on with a coy grin and confidence. Such an attitude was a welcome challenge, usually people tended to back down from Geralt’s gaze, found him intimidating. There was a reason he was usually the one sent to see the more difficult patients at work.

Only slightly more shy, Jaskier quirked his lips at the next question. “Would you mind if I ordered for both of us?”

“I have no idea how to even pronounce some of these things let alone know what’s in them. So go ahead. Just nothing too spicy for me.” It didn’t go over Geralt’s head that there was a certain element of power exchange there but he didn’t want to think too much about it. They’d said no play for a while, he would abide by that and expected Jaskier to follow his own rules too.

By the time the waiter came over, Jaskier had prattled on about various items on the menu, telling Geralt about them and actually succeeding in making him look forward to trying the new food rather than being suspicious and wary.

“Could we have the sample platter for two, if possible, light on the spicy levels please.” He looked at Geralt with a wide, easy smile. “As for drinks, I’d like a lemonade and an orange juice for my boyfriend please. Both large.”

With a wink, Jaskier let the blushing waiter go and he slipped an arm around Geralt’s shoulder. “This okay?”

“Yes.” Geralt said and he truly meant it, this was more than okay. He peered at the table and finally figured out what had been bugging him from the very start. “Will they bring cutlery?”

His face fell a little when Jaskier shook his head and gestured to the tables around them. Nobody had cutlery and instead, people were eating with their hands, tearing bits of what looked like flat bread and using that to pick pieces of food up.

“Remember when I said don’t dress too nice? This is going to get messy. The first time I tried it, I swear I had juices running up to my elbow, shot a slippery whole egg across the table and probably let my shirt taste half the dishes too. Valdo has never let me live that down.”

“Is that why you’re next to me? So we don’t wallop each other with eggs?” Geralt was smirking as he teased and he was delighted when Jaskier elbowed him playfully.

“No, I’m next to you because I want to cuddle my boyfriend on our date.”

That shut Geralt up and he dipped his head, wishing his hair had been down so he could hide behind it. Not that Jaskier would have let him, even now he was slipping a finger under Geralt’s chin and urging him to look up. Even better, he was leaning in to kiss him and Geralt sighed into the contact. This he could most definitely do.

“Your drinks.”

They sprang apart, Geralt more flustered while Jaskier smiled as if it was absolutely every day to be kissing in public like that. It made Geralt wonder whether there Jaskier was capable of feeling any shame at all - so far, the answer to that seemed to be a resounding no.

Food was a curious affair. While Jaskier showed him how best to tear the bread and pick food up with it, Geralt still struggled. When it came to the whole egg, graciously, he let Jaskier eat it. The bastard managed to make it elegant. At least he did, until he took another bite just as Gearlt tried to pick up some gomen and it fell with a splat onto the table. That had Jaskier snorting and the egg slipped from his hand, rolling on the table a few times before coming to rest next to Geralt’s mess. They stared at it together and burst out laughing.

The plate was finally empty and Jaskier settled back with a smile on his face, a smear of something on his cheek. It felt right to reach up and swipe a thumb over it and Geralt, forgetting what to do with the food now on his thumb, wiped it on his trousers.

“Could have licked that clean for you,” Jaskier purred, flirty.

“You wouldn’t want to, if you knew the things it almost touched today.” That had Jaskier’s eyes lighting up in interest and Geralt was compelled to explain. “So this guy comes in. And he’s talking about despair in his backside. Bear in mind, he’s English as anything, rather primp and proper too. But nobody can figure out what his despair in his backside is, it’s on his admission notes as a quote “I got despair in my butt” because triage was just as confused.”

Already, Jaskier was snickering and hanging onto Geralt’s every word. “So I get to go see him, he’s sitting a bit funny. And he’s got his phone on him. When I ask what the matter is, he flashes his phone at me, picture of a pear on a kitchen surface and says, clear as day: I got this pear in my butt.”

The hoot of a laugh from Jaskier drew looks but Geralt didn’t find it uncomfortable. He was too caught up in how beautiful Jaskier looked with his head thrown back, eyes crinkled with mirth, a mouth open with laughter, teeth on show. Even better, Geralt was allowed to look his fill without reproach.

“That is priceless, but tell me, did he get to keep the despair of his anus?”

Snorting, Geralt nodded. “We sent him home with his pear and strict instructions that it’s for oral consumption only. He insisted on keeping the pear and wouldn’t leave unless we handed ‘his property’ back to him.”

The bill came and Geralt reached for it. He grabbed it at the same time as Jaskier and they stared at each other.

“I suggested it, this is my treat.” Jaskier stuck his tongue out and Geralt feigned shock at the motion. It served as a nice distraction though as he jammed a thumb against Jaskier’s ribs which made the man jump. Unfortunately, it didn’t make him loosen his hold on the bill. “You can get the next one,” Jaskier assured as he leaned in and kissed Geralt softly, tongue running over his lower lip. Instinctively, Geralt brought his hand up to cup his boyfriend’s cheek and blinked when Jaskier pulled away with a triumphant little crow. The bill was in his hand.

Once that was settled, Jaskier led them out. It was a shame that their evening was ending, Geralt wasn’t willing to let them part ways just yet. Looking around, his eyes caught on some lights and he smiled.

“Trust me?” he asked, grabbing Jaskier’s hand in his.

“I want to.” The reply felt heavy and laden with more meaning than Geralt was prepared to decipher. Instead of mulling over it, he led them towards the fair that was set up in the town square. It had been there for a few days now and likely to be gone in a couple more so it was perfectly timed for them.

With Jaskier in tow, he took them first to the stand that sold sweets and, to his utter delight, slushies. It seemed Jaskier was a fan of the idea if his exclamations of wonder were anything to go by.   
  
“Look! They’ve got so many colours!”

“Which one would you like?”

“The red flavour! No! Wait! The blue flavour!” Jaskier looked between the two and nodded. “Definitely the blue one please.”

Handing over the blue drink, Geralt pulled his own pink one to himself and set them off on a path again. He took comfort in the occasional slurp from beside him and, glancing over, Jaskier’s eyes were wide as he took in the various stalls and rides. However, Geralt wasn’t stopping, he had a destination in mind. It was adorable how Jaskier seemed to miss it until they were at the foot of the ferris wheel and he was staring up at it with wonder. Smiling, Geralt got them tickets for the ride and they were ushered into a carriage of their own.

“Ever blown bubbles in a slushie?” Jaskier asked as they sat down.

Without replying, Geralt took a breath and blew into his straw. The first bubble was fine, a bit of a giggle but he missed the building air pocket that rose and exploded, coating his face in specks of sticky pink.

Bright laughter and a soft “oh dear” from Jaskier was only made funnier by the fact he followed it up with a “well, I was about to tell you it’s not worth it”. Wiping his face, Geralt opted to drink his slushie and shuffled a little closer to Jaskier. It was so much better when Jaskier shifted in too, their thighs pressed against each other even as they stared out over the town, watching the lights.

“I can’t figure you out,” Jaskier said and looked back at Geralt. “You’re so assertive and sure of your likes. Yet when we do a scene, it’s like a switch.”

“I told you, I can’t be your submissive 24/7,” Geralt replied. “Or even outside of play.”

“It’s still a huge difference.”

“So don’t try to figure me out. You’re not my therapist.” It was only slightly tongue in cheek, throwing the his words back at Jaskier like that. It was met with a quiet “touche” and Jaskier turned to look at the ground falling slowly away under them.

Feeling brave, Geralt let his hand rest on Jaskier’s thigh and he turned to look at his boyfriend who was actually invested in the view as he drank, throat bobbing.

“The view is so beautiful,” Jaskier murmured and turned to Geralt.

“Yeah, it is.” The agreement came easy to Geralt as he continued to look at Jaskier. There was a soft “oh” which was lost in the sudden kiss. Their drinks were blindly set to the side as Geralt helped pull Jaskier into his lap as they made out, the ride all but forgotten. It was only as the carriage in front docked to allow riders to get off that they righted themselves, lips glistening in the lights of the fair, cheeks dark with a blush.

Picking up their drinks, they slurped in silence and disembarked, walking next to each other in a content silence. It was getting late, they knew they had to part for the night. Standing at a crossing, they looked at each other, clutching their respective empty slushie cups.

“I had a really nice time,” Jaskier started, charmingly bashful all of a sudden, twisting one foot nervously.

“Me too.” Doing his best, Geralt offered up a smile. “I’d like to see where this leads.”

It seemed that the elephant in the room they’d been all but ignoring was rearing its head now. They had done so well, ignoring their history and just focusing on the date but it was a bit of a fantasy to think they could start from scratch with a blank slate. What Geralt didn’t expect was for Jaskier to lean in and press slushie cooled lips to his cheek.

“Me too. Call me.” With that, Jaskier turned and all but skipped off, throwing a small wave over his shoulder a few steps away when he turned to look back at Geralt.

Shaking his head, Geralt watched him go before setting off towards his car. He couldn’t quite believe how well the evening had gone. It was a strange sensation, to return home happy and content. Geralt even grinned at his phone when it lit up with a message.

[Thanks again for tonight. I hope I can see you again soon. What’s your opinion on zoos?]

[Zoos are alright. Though if you want to get up close and personal with animals, I could introduce you to Roach.]

Putting his phone away, Geralt got ready for bed. In the bathroom, his eyes caught on his reflection, something didn’t seem right. On closer inspection, he realised his lips were tinged a light purple. It caused him to worry, mind cycling through the poisons he knew of and their side effects. None of them seemed to cause just purple lips. He wet them and watched in horror as his tongue too was a curious shade of purple. It took him altogether too long to puzzle it out. Blue and pink mixed to make purple.

[Have you checked your tongue?]

He messaged Jaskier, looking at the message declaring that meeting Roach would be a highest honour. The reply to his question was the picture of a tongue, purple like his own.

Settling down in bed, Geralt smiled at his phone. He had one more message to send.

[Next weekend, you’ll meet Roach. It’s a date.]


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier goes riding.

Finding a time that suited them both for meeting Roach proved to be a difficult feat. Either Geralt was at work, post nights or Jaskier had a client. It felt like everything was stacking against them but some evenings they managed to squeeze a phone call in. While Geralt drove home, Jaskier would chatter away, cooking and probably waving a knife around as he spoke. In a way, it was strange that Geralt could imagine that, he didn’t feel like he knew Jaskier all too well. But each time they spoke, it was like another segment of tin foil had been peeled back and Geralt got to peer into the life that Jaskier led. And so far, he actually liked what he saw.

“I have a final session with a client first thing on Saturday morning,” Jaskier was saying. This time, Geralt was settled on his couch, eyes closed and listening. He’d actually worked sociable hours and had the chance to go shopping and make dinner that was more elaborate than ‘shove things in pot and heat with seasoning until palatable’. Now, he was able to enjoy talking to his boyfriend, eyes closed, warm and quite content.

“Sounds good,” he rumbled before the implication of the words sunk in. “Come over after and I’ll take us out to Roach.”

What Geralt didn’t mention was that he’d be up at the crack of dawn to go out, ride her and make sure she was in a good enough mood to have a visitor. For whatever reason, Roach was very particular about the humans she tolerated and Geralt was at the top of a very short list. His wandering mind was pulled back by Jaskier babbling excitedly.

“I should bring sugarcubes! Wait, those are bad for teeth and in general, right? Maybe apples. Or is it carrots that Roach would prefer? I’m not very good with my horse knowledge, was more of a building with plastic bricks kind of kid than brightly coloured, magical ponies.”

It was endearing and Geralt snorted a little. “She’ll love you forever if you bring her an apple. I have her favourites with me, we’ll just grab one from the fridge before leaving.”

The enthusiastic appreciation from Jaskier made him smile. All that reaction over an apple for a horse he wanted to ‘woo’ because apparently Jaskier believed in loving a whole family and not just selected members. The notion that Roach was Geralt’s family was a peculiar one, he couldn’t find it in himself to disagree.

“Alright, I finish at 9:30 on Saturday morning, probably safer to say ten though,” Jaskier yawned around his words. “Last session, I like to make it a rounded one. So I could be there for eleven?”

It meant Geralt wouldn’t need to go to Roach at stupid o’clock. If he got there for seven, he could get everything done and give her a long enough ride to make her maybe a little more placid around a new stranger.

Saturday rolled around wonderfully quickly and Geralt oddly looked forward to introducing Jaskier and Roach. He drove out to the stables and got things ready. Riding always helped clear his head, focus pushed utterly to Roach moving underneath him, the two of them reading each other fluidly after years together.

By the time it was ten, Geralt’s shirt was stuck to his back with sweat but Roach’s stable had never looked so clean.

“Now don’t trash it before Jaskier sees it,” he warned, giving her a fond pat.

There was just enough time to get home, shower and put some clean clothes on. Nothing special because they were going to be going out to Roach again and Geralt was under no illusion that he was going to be sweaty and covered in dirt once more. He had warned Jaskier not to wear anything fancy either, but he wasn’t sure if it was going to be heeded. It really did seem that Geralt’s idea of fancy and Jaskier’s were wildly different. He was just pocketing the apple when his doorbell went and Geralt absolutely didn’t have a slight bounce to his step as he went to answer.

“Jaskier,” he greeted warmly and his face fell as he took in the sight of his boyfriend. Perfectly put together, the fanciest sweatpants and tight t-shirt combo imaginable, hair carefully brushed. The whole ensemble was marred by red, cried out eyes and a brittle smile. “What happened?”

“Nothing, nothing,” Jaskier was quick to reassure with a pat to Geralt’s chest. “Shall we go meet the four legged love of your life?”

The hand on his chest was easy enough to grab and Geralt wrapped a gentle hand around Jaskier’s wrist and tugged. As far as hugs were considered, it was a softly crushing one, Jaskier pressed into him until Geralt could feel him relax. From there, it was easy enough to manoeuvre them to the sofa and settle in next to each other.

“It’s silly,” Jaskier sniffled, sitting up and staring at his knees. “I’m happy, I really am.”

“But?”

“I spent three years working with her. Watched her climb out of a pit, helped her up whenever she slipped and now she’s got the foundations of her emotions built up. It’s like watching a baby bird fly the coop and I’m so proud of her. But it’s still three years of hard work and now she’s out in the wild, doesn’t need me anymore.”

It was something Geralt had never considered before. People used therapists as stepping stones to get better, to get to a healthier place. Shamefully, not once had Geralt thought about the impact of a client finishing therapy would have on their therapist.

“It was a client - therapist relationship, I know that,” Jaskier mumbled, eyes wet. A tear escaped and splashed on the back of his hand. “And yet, I will still miss her. I grew to really enjoy our sessions. I’m sorry.” He wiped at his face and tried to curb his emotions. “This isn’t what I’ve come over here for. I’ve given myself enough weeping time in the buffer between finishing and coming here. I shouldn’t ruin our date.”

“You’re assuming you’re ruining something.” It was meant to come across as reassuring but it probably didn’t come across it, given how Jaskier sniffled and laughed.

“Surely you didn’t expect me to arrive and promptly throw a tear party. We were meant to go see Roach!”

Really, Roach could wait. Geralt wasn’t going to let Jaskier put on a brave face. He wouldn’t let anyone at work do that so he wasn’t going to start doing it now. Instead, he tugged until Jaskier was settled across his lap.

“I can’t claim to understand what you’re going through,” he prefaced it, “but I want to help.”

And all interaction with Jaskier had suggested that he appreciated physical comfort which was something well within Geralt’s capabilities. He didn’t expect to draw a laugh from Jaskier. “I’m not having another drop, you don’t need to coddle me.”

The rejection stung and Geralt’s arms loosened, only for Jaskier to grab them and wrap them around himself firmly once more. “Just because it’s not a drop doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate it. I’m just saying you don’t have to worry. I’m just a bit overly expressive of my emotions, always have been.”

“You make up for what I lack.” Carefully, Geralt tucked Jaskier against his chest and held him. This, he could do, let Jaskier slowly go lax against him, shed tears in the privacy of the crook of his neck.

It took another good ten minutes before Jaskier spoke up again, “Hey Geralt?” To which Geralt only hummed to show his attention was caught. “How come you’re so assertive out of the bedroom? Who taught you your BDSM etiquette?”

They were back to that question again. With a heavy sigh, Geralt closed his eyes and tried to ignore the frustration crawling up his spine.

“Yen ran me through it. But I got the gist of it. She took it way too seriously. I wanted to give up control and she wanted to be in charge. It was simple.”

It had sounded so simple. And the few times Yen had tried to put a stop to things, Geralt had snarled at her that he knew what he was doing. Anything to keep her attention a little longer. He trusted her which was a rarity and by the time they progressed to heavier play, Geralt was confident in his ability to put a stop to things no matter what. It was why he allowed strangers in the club to touch him. Geralt had learned he could take anything so whatever a stranger did, he could tolerate.

Still sniffing a little, Jaskier sat up so he could look at Geralt properly.

“I think I want to go over the basics again.”

As unnecessary as it felt, Geralt nodded in defeat. He could suffer through another lecture about roles, consent and control. It was perhaps better to get it out of the way now, before they went to see Roach, that way, it wouldn’t hang over his head.

“Okay, so-” Jaskier slipped off Geralt’s lap and settled on the sofa comfortably, “-it’s probably best if you try and forget anything you’ve ever been taught or assumed about domination and submission.”

There should have been something offensive about being told he was the one who had it all wrong and Jaskier was going to magically educate him but Geralt barely even bristled. In a way, he was used to getting things wrong, especially in the bedroom and he found himself slipping into the mindset of just accepting he was flawed without any hope of redemption.

“That right there!” Jaskier tapped his arm lightly. “That’s what I’m talking about. Submission isn’t a complete relinquishment of your very self. You are allowed to have a personality and preferences. Just because you take a submissive role doesn’t mean you’re stripped of all your rights and self. Unless that’s something you’re into and then it is very heavily talked about and planned out first.”

Jaskier ended up going on a bit of a tangent about total power exchange at that point and Geralt found himself intrigued. Whereas before, he had zoned out Yennefer’s lecture, Jaskier held his attention captive, wanting to know more. It didn’t feel like he was interrupting when asking questions and, more importantly, he didn’t feel stupid for going back to query something for clarity.

“So that’s TPE,” Jaskier concluded his impromptu detour. “Is it something you’d like to try?”

In a way, it sounded a bit like what Geralt had been trying to offer his partners which made him sit back and think. He had to admit, he didn’t spend much time thinking about his bedroom habits outside of jerking off to some of the memories. To view his own actions without lust clouding his mind, it was quite eye opening.

“I don’t think I want that,” he finally decided. Feeling brave, he looked over at Jaskier. “I want to have more of a say if I don’t like something.”

“Oh thank fuck for that,” Jaskier laughed, a little nervous. “I mean, not thank fuck you don’t want to do it but because you are actually communicating. You wouldn’t let me do something you didn’t like outside of a scene, so why let me do it to you while we’re doing something that we’re both meant to be enjoying?”

To that, Geralt didn’t have much of an answer. Well, he did but it sounded stupid now that he’d actually listened to Jaskier. Because him taking whatever was being done to him wasn’t what his partner actually wanted. Well, it wasn’t what Jaskier wanted, Geralt couldn’t really speak for the others he had played with. It was no longer some stranger calling the shots and Geralt desperate for anything that looked like attention and an outlet. Instead, he had ended up with a boyfriend who was wanting a level playing field. In Jaskier’s words he wanted active consent rather than passive tolerance. On the surface of it, Geralt thought he understood it now but it was probably a whole other thing to apply it to any kind of scene.

Thinking of scenes and the like, Geralt was reminded of the tightness to his skin and the itch that came with going too long without some kind of play. It sat like the world’s worst insect bite on his psyche. Which only led him to wonder whether Jaskier felt the same kind of frustration. Then again, when they met Jaskier had said that he was welcome to play with others as long as he played safe. By that logic, the same applied to Jaskier himself and maybe he hadn’t been having the same issues because he had other subs.

“I can feel you tensing up,” Jaskier broke into Geralt’s thoughts. “What’s the matter?”

Not quite sure how to word it, Geralt shrugged and turned, letting his hair fall between them. He didn’t expect a hand to reach up and tuck the strands out of his face.

“Let’s try this whole communication thing? Please?”

Sighing, Geralt stared at his knees.

“Do you miss it?” It was easier to ask indirectly, let Jaskier answer if he wanted to but Geralt couldn’t voice his concern because he didn’t want to sound like a needy fool. And he didn’t think his heart could take it, if he heard that Jaskier had been seeing others while all Geralt had been doing was disappointing him.

“Miss what? Play?” Geralt nodded tightly. “I do. But it’s not the end of the world. I’d rather a good foundation and relationship than a dangerous sexual escapade where we both get hurt.”

The intuition Geralt had been relying on wasn’t kicking in and Jaskier wasn’t answering his question. Well, he was answering the question Geralt had asked but not the one he wanted to ask. In the end, he asked in a small voice, “What about with others?”

“As I said at the start-” Jaskier slung an arm around Geralt’s shoulders, “-I am very much a one sub kind of person.”

Silence hung heavy between them and Geralt mulled over the answer. He was Jaskier’s only. It was a relief and yet he couldn’t help but feel guilty because he was so broken, Jaskier couldn’t trust him enough to play with him.

“Geralt, are you asking if we can be exclusive both as romantic partners as well as sexual ones?” The words were measured and calm, Jaskier careful to not let any kind of tone curl his voice.

Chancing a glance at Jaskier, Geralt nodded and was taken off-guard by the wide smile that blossomed on his boyfriend’s face.

“It would be my honour to call you my sub,” he said with more gravity than Geralt had guessed the occasion would warrant. However, it soothed some unspoken feeling in his chest and Geralt smiled too as Jaskier leaned in to kiss him. “I know we said we’d visit Roach today but I really want to take you into the bedroom. No play, no scene, just me and my boyfriend having loving, wholesome and fulfilling sex.”

Roach really could wait. At least when Geralt was given such a choice. He nodded and shyly took hold of Jaskier’s hand, giving it a squeeze.

“I’d really like that.”

The trip to the bedroom was short but Geralt still had butterflies in his stomach. He’d had sex before without any kind of play involved, that wasn’t new. But somehow, with Jaskier, it felt much more intimate even though they were just kissing in the bedroom where things had gone so horribly wrong the last time.

Warm hands pushed under his t-shirt and Geralt let himself be undressed. He didn’t miss the hungry look Jaskier gave him and he was half tempted to offer the chance to play.

“I’ve wanted you like this for a while now,” Jaskier murmured, putting a stop to Geralt’s half formed words ever leaving the back of his throat. “Just us, no expectations, no negotiations, nothing other than each other.”

Nobody had wanted Geralt quite like that before and he had no idea what to say. Rather than speak, he moved to nose along Jaskier’s jaw, leaving kisses over the column of his neck and drawing soft inhales of pleasure. That, Geralt could do. He knew how to help get someone off and make them feel good.

It didn’t take too long for them to end up in bed, Jaskier spread under Geralt as they kissed lazily. Their hips rolled together, seeking a bit of pressure and friction but it wasn’t all consuming, not yet. For want of a better word, Geralt’s limited vocabulary offered up the descriptor ‘nice’ to sum up what they were doing. He didn’t bother pulling away to catch his breath, resting their foreheads together and opening his eyes to stare down at Jaskier.

“Heh, you have four eyes like this,” Jaskier snickered and it drew a grin from Geralt too. He didn’t expect a kiss to be pressed to the tip of his nose either. The wriggling from Jaskier had Geralt moving to the side and he was stunned when the world spun and he was on his back, a comfortingly heavy body on top of him.

He watched Jaskier cast a glance around. “Lube’s in the bedside drawer.” It was next to the plug that he’d kept and even tried it out a couple of times when he had the time and the energy for it. That was something he had thoroughly enjoyed and even imagined Jaskier pushing it into him with a constant litany of praise. Geralt hadn’t come that hard by himself in a long time.

Lube in hand, Jaskier straddled him triumphantly. As he spread lube on his fingers, Geralt shifted a little, not quite knowing how this was going to work. Surely Jaskier needed to see what he was doing rather than awkwardly reaching behind himself blindly. Plus it would be easier if Geralt could spread his legs a little more. Realisation only dawned on Geralt as Jaskier worried his lower lip between his teeth with a soft grunt and his free hand rested on Geralt’s chest. The way his hips twitched a little and his gaze went distant, Geralt knew exactly what was happening and he was desperate for more.

“Touch me,” Jaskier groaned, eyes closing. “Play with my nipples but don’t pinch please.”

Eager to please, Geralt reached, rubbing over Jaskier’s chest, appreciating the feel of hair under his palms. After a moment, he pulled his hand away to lick a thumb before returning to circle a nipple. The effect was immediate, Jaskier crying out breathlessly, rocking his cock against Geralt’s before pressing down on his fingers.

“You look lovely like this,” Geralt rumbled, trying his hand at the praise and dirty talk Jaskier had indulged in before. It certainly seemed to make Jaskier shiver in pleasure and it encouraged Geralt to keep talking. “I can’t wait to have you sinking down on my cock. You’ll sound so pretty when you’re panting and gasping, on the brink of an orgasm.”

He felt a little silly saying that but Jaskier didn’t seem to think so. Though he did look down at Geralt with a wide smile.

“I can’t wait,” he replied. “I need you in me right now. Want to ride myself silly.”

A bit more lube later, Geralt got to watch Jaskier’s face fall slack as he knelt above his cock and settled back onto it. It was overwhelming in the best of ways and Geralt groaned in tandem with Jaskier.

“That was almost in harmony,” Jaskier giggled and Geralt barked out a laugh at that. It seemed there was nothing about such sex that Jaskier could take seriously and, oddly, Geralt didn’t mind. He got to reach up, trace the contours of muscles under soft skin and draw small, sighing moans from his boyfriend.

“I can get you singing nicer,” Geralt promised and pulled his feet up while his hands found Jaskier’s hips. He rocked up into Jaskier’s downward motion and grinned when it punched a gasp from him.

“Oh it’s on,” Jaskier replied and on the next move, he gave his hips a small grind but his victorious smirk was lost to an “oh fuck” as Geralt pressed deeper too. “Do that again.”

They moved as one, Jaskier’s both hands flat on Geralt’s chest for better leverage. His thighs were trembling with effort as Geralt set the pace for them, unrelenting and unforgiving. The laughter from earlier melted into gasps and cries. Struggling a little, Jaskier straightened up, hands gripping his own ankles as he tried to keep up and Geralt took it as an opportunity. One hand went to Jaskier’s chest while the other wrapped around his cock.

Both of them were so close, their rhythm was falling apart, control and finesse falling by the wayside. There was no telling which one of them came first, neither of them were too fussed. The important thing was that after the initial, body locking pleasure, Jaskier was slumping forward, breathing hard and content to lie on Geralt’s chest, mess be damned.

“Guess I got some definition of riding in this morning,” Jaskier joked and yelped when Geralt playfully swatted him on the backside.

Cuddling for a few more minutes, Jaskier began to squirm, obviously uncomfortable as things began to dry, cooling sweat on skin feeling less pleasant now that the fun was over.

“Come on, shower,” Geralt grumbled and pressed on firm shoulders.

“Don’t call yourself ‘shower’, you’re Geralt and I already came on you.”

The “urgh” from Geralt was utterly heartfelt even as Jaskier cackled. That turned into a squeal as Geralt rolled them and scooped Jaskier up.

“You didn’t think these muscles were just for show, did you?” The question was asked as Geralt marched them to the bathroom. He carefully deposited Jaskier in the bathtub and set about running the water, waiting for it to warm up. What he didn’t expect was for Jaskier to squeal and shrink away from the water.

“What kind of icy torrent do you call this?” Without waiting for permission, Jaskier twiddled the knobs, seeming utterly content despite come slipping down the back of his thigh. Soon, the whole room was steaming up.

“What kind of lobster boiling lava flow do you call this?!” Geralt parroted back in abject horror. However, he was smiling as he stepped into the tub behind Jaskier. “Guess we’ll just have to compromise.”

Together, they dialled the heat back a little until both of them could tolerate it enough to help wash each other and slip in a few kisses until Jaskier’s back was against the wall and they were making out again. It was one of the best (and longest) showers Geralt had ever indulged in. He had zero regrets, even as the water went cold and Jaskier shrieked right in his ear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Confession: I know nothing about horses. So I chickened out of writing Roach for the time being. I am very sorry to all those who were expecting a horse-y chapter. Jaskier did a different kind of riding today.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adventuring back into the world of kink and scenes.

Something settled after that in Geralt. He couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was but it definitely made a difference that was picked up by his friends. Even if he hadn’t been able to play like he’d wanted to of late. It was worth it though, despite the itchiness that plagued his mind, the need to give over and stop worrying. Instead, he got Jaskier in his arms some nights and wonderful company on those evenings too. Sometimes, they went out but mostly, they got to cook for each other or, even better, together. Though Geralt was fairly certain they ended up putting more wine in their stomachs than the food on some nights.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you look so content with life,” Eskel commented as they sifted through files by the nurse station.

Refusing to look up from the notes Geralt was now stubbornly reading even though they weren’t the ones he wanted, he shrugged. “Jask and I have worked things out.” Mostly. But he wasn’t going to divulge any overly personal information. As much as Geralt valued his friends, he didn’t think they would understand the draw of submitting or dominating. Even worse, Geralt feared that if they would lose respect for him, see him as weak. Probably not pathetic because they were better men than that but Geralt still feared being seen as lesser. He decided to turn the focus onto something better, “You and Lambert doing alright?”

There was a soft blush that dusted Eskel’s cheeks as he looked down. “We didn’t quite tell you but there might be someone else too now. We fell in love with a teacher.”

That was a surprise but Geralt tried not to let it show. The time he got bitten, and Eskel had said he and Lambert were being picked up and looked so besotted in that moment, Geralt should have known.

“Great.”

Anything more was interrupted by Lambert barrelling over, phone in hand and shoving it at Eskel.

“Tell the idiot he’s not cooking after getting back from the school trip. We can get takeaway like regular, unhealthy humans.”

There was zero apology in Eskel’s look at Geralt as he took the phone with a soft “Hey doll, listen to what puppy says.”

And right there was something Geralt wasn’t going to touch upon at all. Some things he was not going to even think about. Instead, he looked at Lambert. “How’s this whole love business going?”

“It’s fucking beautiful. You should try it.”

Taking the file he needed, Geralt nodded and tried to fathom a future where love was part of his life. Maybe even with Jaskier. Because there was no denying that there was a connection there. Something that, if tended to could possibly blossom into love. That was a big question mark though because Geralt wasn’t sure Jaskier would want something like love with him. They were still taking things slow which was nice. But a blowjob or sex wasn’t quite the same as submitting, even if Jaskier had Geralt pressed against a wall and kissing him senseless before bending him over the back of the sofa.

The whole love thing Geralt decided to set aside. He wasn’t in a rush about it and didn’t think it was worth stressing over. If it happened, great but the one thing he really didn’t want was to get his hopes up. Plus, he was much more interested in getting to do a scene with Jaskier again than anything else. His heart was too small to be able to chase multiple goals and have multiple rejections. So Geralt focused on the less dangerous matter to start with.

“When can we do a scene again?” He asked over dinner and watched Jaskier for any kind of reaction. Beating around the bush wasn’t his style, Geralt wanted something, he would outright ask. Outside of a scene that is, because there, it wasn’t his place to ask for anything.

“What did you have in mind?”

Apparently, Geralt thought wrong. Again. He shrugged because he wasn’t certain what he should ask for. Or even what he could request. They’d played around with toys a bit more too and Geralt didn’t know whether that meant they weren’t appealing enough for Jaskier to want to use in a scene anymore.

The silence stretched to an uncomfortable length, Jaskier watching him passively. In the end, Geralt broke. “Something softer? Like the time with ropes?” Jaskier kept looking at him. “Maybe a toy or your fingers? You said you like your subs stuffed full.”

“We can most definitely do that,” Jaskier finally replied with a smile. “I love hearing you talk about what you like.”

Cheeks flushed, Geralt shovelled more food in his mouth to buy himself time. He had no idea how to respond to that. Despite their numerous talks over the subject and Jaskier stressing that Geralt had a say, it was such a difficult habit to break. So Geralt settled for a cheeky redirection of conversation.

“I like you.”

That managed to draw a delighted snort from Jaskier. “I should certainly hope so. As your boyfriend surely I should enjoy such privileges.” He seemed to wait until Geralt took another bite before announcing casually, “I would like to fist you.”

Food almost got sprayed over the table as Geralt all but choked in surprise. Sure, he was all for the idea, it was something Jaskier had mentioned early on. But he didn’t expect it to be so casually discussed over dinner. He cleared his throat and looked at Jaskier who shrugged with an unrepentant grin.

“You’re allowed to say no. It’s just that I know you’ve been playing with toys and we’ve had our fair share of exploring. And when we looked at toys the first time, you were definitely looking keen for something bigger.”

Which was the truth, Geralt had been interested in the larger of toys. But still. His eyes drifted to Jaskier’s hands and he swallowed thickly. He’d taken four of the fingers before, how much more would a whole hand actually be?

A whole lot, as it turned out. They had gone back to the club and Jaskier had gotten them a private room again. There was a nervous energy thrumming in Geralt as he stripped, the maddening itch of need was finally being dealt with. At least the club gave a bit of familiarity to the whole affair and Geralt found himself slipping into a headspace he had been missing.

“Oh your hands and knees, darling,” Jaskier ordered quietly as he rolled the sleeves of his shirt up. They’d talked about it before, almost to the point that Geralt was questioning whether this was a sex act or something for a stage production. However, it had been important to Jaskier so he did his best to listen.

In a way, it paid off because Geralt knew what was coming. Well, he knew the end of the night was him with a fist up his ass but Jaskier had talked him through several points where they could check in without making Geralt worry about having to say any colours. Instead, Jaskier would give him a warning and ask whether Geralt wanted more before actually doing it. There was zero doubt in Geralt’s mind about sinking down onto his hands and knees. Not that he’d ever had doubts before but this was different in a way Geralt didn’t have words to describe it.

The praise was there just like before, Jaskier so careful with the words he chose and Geralt relaxed. This wasn’t all that different from when they had sex, except Geralt was allowed to let go.

“Still with me, sweetheart?” Jaskier asked as he ran a hand down Geralt’s back. There was the sound of a cap being flipped open.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Laughing softly, Jaskier’s hands left Geralt before returning, much more focused and with a goal in mind rather than roving aimlessly over warm skin. However, he didn’t make any move to do anything other than circle Geralt’s hole with gentle pressure, just like they had agreed.

“Would you like more? We’ve played around enough that we can start with two fingers.”

A growl of “yes” was Geralt’s immediate answer. It felt strange, not to have to say a colour, especially when Geralt would have absolutely meant green if he had been asked for it. However, he didn’t have much time to think about it as fingers pressed into him, not quite too much but it definitely wasn’t the hesitant exploration of a first time touch that Jaskier had been prone to.

“You’re going to look so good, taking my whole fist.” Jaskier kept talking softly, methodically twisting and spreading his fingers while his other hand had returned to stroke over Geralt’s back. “Want to take a third finger?”

“Yes.” Somehow, Geralt found himself wanting to take the third finger and more. It was curious, this newfound desire to please Jaskier. He knew he ought to accept anything Jaskier asked of him, that was his role. Or at least, that was what he’d always thought but Jaskier had challenged that and now Geralt had tendrils of desire in a way he’d never felt before. If he thought about it too much, it was terrifying so he ignored the emotions in favour of focusing on the third finger spreading him wider.

“More,” he demanded, knowing that if he could get a bit more burn, his mind would blank out the way he needed.

Rather than snidely put him down or chide him for being a demanding brat, Jaskier soothed his hand over Geralt’s back. “Soon. You know our rules.”

Impatient, Geralt canted his hips. It was easy to rebel against the steady kindness Jaskier was showering him in. Part of Geralt still seemed to believe that Jaskier would snap and show his true colours. Instead, three fingers were firmly worked into him.

“That’s it. Try and push me out,” Jaskier commanded, eyes glued to Geralt’s hole. Even as Geralt twisted to look at him, he still obeyed, his best to force Jaskier’s fingers out. They weren’t moving anywhere but a warm heat was blossoming in his body. The feeling of his body working so hard without achieving anything other than pleasure was maddening. It had him crying out and shaking. All thought flew from Geralt’s mind as he canted his hips a little, trying to feel more.

“Would you like another one?”

“Fuck yes.” Geralt was down to swearing in agreement. Without being told he bore down and groaned when four fingers were knuckle deep in him.

“Perfect, you’re wonderful my lovely,” Jaskier praised and twisted his hand until his thumb was brushing over Geralt’s balls which were already pulled tight. “I’d love it if you could hold off until I’ve got you full and made a fist.”

Not a command but a request Geralt would absolutely try and follow. There was some part of him that wanted Jaskier’s praise, to bask in his adoration even if he was skittish about it being suddenly taken from him.

He tried to breathe through the waves of pleasure while Jaskier kept up the litany of praise and gentle touches. It made Geralt drop his head between his shoulders, hanging down and panting. Opening his eyes, he was greeted to the sight of his own hard cock, neglected and straining for attention.

“Would you like another finger?”

“Yes.” No hesitation again, Geralt definitely wanted it. He was desperate to have everything Jaskier had promised him, had whispered about in the dark when they were cuddled up in bed, sated and idly stroking over sweaty skin.

Thankfully there was no second guessing him and Geralt groaned at the feeling of being stretched even further. This was more than he’d ever taken before but it was everything Geralt could have ever craved. He could feel himself giving over to Jaskier, like that time with the ropes where he could relax. Open and vulnerable, Geralt missed the first time Jaskier asked if he wanted to take his whole hand. The second time it was asked, Geralt nodded, raising his head and gritting out a hazy “yes.”

Once more Jaskier urged him to bear down and Geralt could feel himself being forced wider, the pressure of Jaskier’s knuckles forcing his body to give way. This was the submission Geralt had been wanting, body and mind handed over to Jaskier to be pushed to his limits and pieced back together. An open mouthed groan left him as his body finally opened up and let Jaskier in. Distantly, he was aware of Jaskier making some kind of noise too.

“Look at you.” The words finally filtered through the haze and Geralt sagged, hips rocking a little, punching soft whines at the feeling of being so full, Jaskier was in him, around him. It was perfect. “You took that beautifully. Can you feel my whole hand in you?”

Words were beyond Geralt and he moaned his appreciation. He wondered how long he would be allowed to just float like that, content and full. On a whim, he reached down to his stomach, wondering whether he could feel Jaskier in himself.

“Such a good bo-o. Boo.” Jaskier faltered, obviously caught in the middle of slipping up. “Good boo.”

Peering over his shoulder, Geralt eyed him up, utterly pulled out of whatever headspace he had been in. “Good boo? What am I? A polite Halloween scare?”

A laugh was bubbling through him, Jaskier’s contrite look only adding to his mirth until he was giggling.

“Geralt?”

Snickering, Geralt shook his head. “Wait. Wait.” He chortled, holding a hand up as he wheezed. Even better, Jaskier was fighting a smirk of his own but his hand was utterly still.

“This is ridiculous,” Geralt grit out between bouts of laughter. “I have your fist up my ass, my dick is hard as fuck and yet-”

“And yet here we are,” Jaskier cut in, using his free hand to wipe away a few stray tears of mirth. “Oh dear, I’m so sorry. That one’s on me. You okay?”

Oddly, Geralt felt more than okay. Maybe the moment was gone, shattered but he didn’t feel like he was in freefall. Sure, it wasn’t the intense and complex feelings that submitting to Jaskier seemed to bring forth but he was still with his boyfriend and that was all that mattered.

“Still want to get me off?”

“Hell yeah,” Jaskier breathed, eyes roaming appreciatively over Geralt. “I’ve got you.”

There was no going back into the scene, Geralt was firmly jolted out of it but he was happy to let Jaskier still get them both to come their brains out. A hand stroked over his back and Geralt relaxed into it. This was okay, they were okay.

“Relax, darling. Slight change of plan.” While the hand in him slowly moved, Jaskier stroked over his back. “I’ve still got you.”

While the moment was utterly gone, the arousal was still there and Geralt let himself focus on that. He moaned as Jaskier asked his permission to make a fist. It was just the right kind of pressure, a fullness that seemed to seep into every crevice of his soul. Even better, Jaskier was murmuring sweet nothing in his ear, telling him how good he looked, stretched around his wrist, how warm and tight he was. Pleasure was building once again, steady and inevitable. Geralt’s muscles were seizing up, turning solid and quaking as everything combined into something almost overwhelming. There was no warning to his climax, a hoarse shout ripping from his throat as he all but blanked out from all the sensations.

An undetermined time later, Geralt realised his back was being stroked as he was still incredibly full. It was nice but not for very much longer. Squirming, he whined a little, trying to pull away from the fist still in him.

“Easy, gorgeous, easy.” Jaskier soothed him. A glance over his shoulder revealed that Jaskier was still hard.

“Get out of me,” Geralt grumbled, eyes on his boyfriend’s twitching cock.

“Alright, help me out. Work with me and push.” Slowly, Jaskier uncurled his fist and began to pull. It was impossible to miss the way his eyes were fixed on Geralt’s hole, lower lip caught between his teeth, so very obviously loving the sight before him. As soon as his hand was free, Geralt was turning and, without warning, was taking Jaskier between his lips, swallowing around his leaking tip.

The surprised little shout and hand in his hair was great, Geralt valiantly ignored the lube now caught in it. Instead, he focused on getting his boyfriend off. It wasn’t all that shocking that it took less than a minute and Geralt felt proud. Because while the scene might not have gone according to plan, they were both sated and all wide smiles.

This, Geralt mused was where he wanted to be. Doubts, bad habits and all. He smiled lazily up at Jaskier and got a beaming grin back. Even better, Jaskier leaned down to kiss him. They were both a bit of a mess, in desperate need of a shower but Geralt didn’t think he had ever been happier.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Would you look at the time? It's emotions o'clock!

Buoyed by the success of their scene, Geralt was in a surprisingly good mood. He felt something he hadn’t in a long time - hope. Maybe he wasn’t so broken and unloveable as he had feared because Jaskier kept coming back. Steady, open and honest, . Painfully human too. Geralt didn’t think he’d ever really seen anyone cry outside of work, at least, not since school anyway. And yet, Jaskier had come along and seemingly made it his personal mission to wreak havoc in the tightly controlled life Geralt had cultivated. The more he thought about it, the more Geralt was coming to realise that there were deeper feelings at play than he had expected. He couldn’t put a name to it, not yet but it was simmering away.

Thanks to his rota, Geralt didn’t have time to see Jaskier for a good week because he was working nights. It was frustrating but Geralt had always known that his job would make maintaining any kind of relationship more difficult. He wasn’t cut out for regular office work, didn’t feel comfortable in a suit and thrived in the high pressure of the emergency room. In his experience, everything had a price and for his job, it was his social life. Even now, when he was missing out on spending time with Jaskier, Geralt didn’t regret his choices one bit. Okay, so that might have been a lie he was telling himself when all he could do was listen to Jaskier on the other end of the phone. HIs boyfriend was chattering away about something as he was out and about, probably walking down to the shop. Or maybe just out for an amble to say hello to people in the area who were walking their dogs. It had been quite endearing to find out that Jaskier had dog treats in his pocket for all the friends he encountered along the way. So lost in his thoughts, Geralt almost missed the question Jaskier threw at him.

“If you could be anywhere in the world, free to choose and free to travel, where would you be?”

Without hesitation or really thinking, Geralt replied, “Where are you?”

It was met with stunned silence before a soft, almost wounded “oh Geralt” was whispered down the phone. Even more shocking, Jaskier said, a little stronger, “I love you too”.

After a beat came the reassurance that Geralt didn’t need to say it back, that Jaskier knew he had a tendency to rush into things. He made it sound so easy and natural for Geralt to not say it back. But then again, it was something that Geralt had been thinking about in a very roundabouts way.

“I think I love you too.” Geralt’s words were steady as he tasted them on his lips. They felt right, heavy for sure but they weren’t the bitter lingering twist of a lie.

“Oh.” Somehow, Jaskier sounded shocked and breathless at the same time. “That’s good. I’m glad.”

And just like that, the conversation moved on, they made plans to see each other on Sunday. Geralt had to work Saturday night but he would get home for about nine and sleep until three so Jaskier could go over for the evening. Even better, he’d bring a change of clothes and spend the night. Their plans were fairly simple, they knew Geralt wouldn’t be up for anything strenuous so Jaskier had wanted to tie him up, tease him with a toy until he was quivering and begging.

Of course, nothing could be as simple as that. Sunday morning, after a quite tiring night of no sleep, Geralt found that his relief had called in sick. While they were scrambling to get someone in to cover, like the idiot he was, Geralt had offered to stay on. While he should have been done at eight, leaving the hospital at half past, he found himself only leaving work after twelve. At which point he’d had to stop off for lunch and got home just in time to plant face first into bed shortly before one. He woke up to the sound of his doorbell and stumbled out, waving Jaskier in with a jaw cracking yawn.

“Did you stay up after getting home?” Jaskier asked, dumping the bag which no doubt held rope along with clothes, on the floor.

“Someone called in sick, I stayed on until a locum could be arranged.”

While Geralt expected to be chastised or reprimanded for that, he didn’t anticipate Jaskier’s face softening. “You’re a real life hero, aren’t you?”

It wasn’t how Geralt saw himself so he shook his head, ready to explain how he was just doing his job because someone had to see to the sick. Yet before he could speak, a finger was pressing up against his lips.

“Don’t fight me on this one. You’re a hero and I admire you for such dedication and perseverance. Now, tell me, how much sleep have you had?”

If there was one thing Geralt had learned about Jaskier it was that he was bossy. Not in a bad way, usually he had everyone else’s best interest at heart but there was no disagreeing with him unless the counter argument was backed up by logic or, as Geralt was learning to find, “I don’t want to” was a solid way to make Jaskier back down too.

“About two hours.” Admitting it didn’t feel like a failure, somehow, Jaskier didn’t make him feel guilty for messing up their plans. Actually, Geralt didn’t want to ruin their plans, he was awake now, he could still play. “I still want to stick to our plans.”

That drew a hum from Jaskier as he looked at Geralt’s face, probably taking in the dark circles under his eyes, the paleness of his skin and how lanky his hair looked. On the whole, Geralt wasn’t looking his best in the slightest.

“May we try something?” The question took Geralt off guard but he nodded almost automatically. “Okay, I’d like to take care of you this evening. Nothing weird or kinky, but let me worry about everything that happens?”

“Always knew you were a bossy control freak,” Geralt replied with a grin. He was teasing, messing around but judging by the look of hurt that flashed across Jaskier’s face for a moment, he didn’t do a good job of conveying that. “I was joking.”

Jaskier gave him a small, tight nod and turned to rummage in his bag, pulling something out and pushing it at Geralt. “I thought you ought to have this.”

Looking down, Geralt was surprised to be holding a page from a sketchbook, carefully cut out, tidied up and stuck to some card, all encased in a protective sleeve. It was the drawing Jaskier had made of him all that time ago, tied up in rope and guided into a headspace he hadn’t really experienced before. Even more importantly, the drawing had been finished, shaded and Geralt couldn’t stop looking at the expression Jaskier had given him. In the drawing he looked peaceful yet desperate at the same time.

“Do I really look like that?”

“Like what? Beautiful? Yes.”

Carefully, Geralt set the art to the side and pulled Jaskier closer, arms looped around his waist and foreheads tipped together. “Thank you. I love you. And I would really appreciate it if you took control for this evening.”

HIs reply was a kiss, Jaskier’s hands splayed on his back and seeping warmth through his t-shirt. “You can always say stop if you need. I don’t want to be overbearingly controlling.”

Obviously Geralt had hit a nerve there and he was gearing up for an apology or an excuse, he wasn’t certain which yet but he knew he needed to use his words. They were instead swallowed up by another kiss, slower, deeper than he had expected, Jaskier taking easy control without even really trying.

“Go take a shower, I’ll raid your fridge in the meantime.”

With a friendly pat to the backside, Geralt was set on his way to the bathroom where he did shower but also took a bit of time to do his hair and brush his teeth. While Jaskier hadn’t said anything about it, Geralt still felt better for having done it. Mildly more refreshed and feeling a little more human, he wandered out and smiled at how at home Jaskier looked in his kitchen. The fridge door was still open as he flitted around, pulling things out at seemingly random. His flurry ended with a milk bottle in hand and eyeing up the cupboards to suss out which one had the mugs.

“I usually just drink straight from the bottle.” A bit of a shameful thing to admit but Geralt lived on his own, he liked to save on washing up.

“Yes but I’m no savage and I don’t drink out of someone else’s bottle. My own’s a whole different matter.”

“We shared enough bodily fluids, just chug it.” Geralt shrugged and watched as Jaskier turned, eyes dark.

“I thought I was the one in charge this evening.” There was a smile playing on his lips though and he twisted the cap off the bottle before raising the bottle to his lips and taking a few large gulps.

Snorting, Geralt walked up behind him and wrapped arms around Jaskier’s chest, chin resting on his shoulder as they waddled around the kitchen like a penguin with an overgrown backpack. However, Jaskier didn’t make any attempt to dislodge him. Instead, they picked up the plates, Geralt was handed one too to carry and they moved to the sofa. There, Jaskier settled them, fussed with the throws, pulling them so Geralt was lying between his legs, back to chest. The TV came on and Jaskier picked out a film, one hand steadily carding through Geralt’s hair, teasing tangles out of it but seemingly not minding the wetness seeping into his shirt.

It was so easy to sink into the easy care. Food was offered up to Geralt’s lips and he could just exist, not even having to pay attention to the film - which was some dumb heist one, it didn’t require any brainpower to understand. The whole setup was relaxing, Geralt found himself sinking closer and closer to sleep but not quite. Eventually, the plates were empty, it was warm and the credits of the film were rolling. Neither of them moved, Jaskier kept up the slow pass of his hand through Geralt’s hair while the other held him securely.

An indeterminate amount of time later, Geralt shifted a little trying to get more comfortable.

“Come on you,” Jaskier stroked over Geralt’s chest. “Off to bed with you.”

It hadn’t been the plan for their evening. Sure, Geralt got to relax and he had given control over to Jaskier but they had planned on something more than that. He whined and twisted to blink up at his boyfriend. An evil plan was hatching in his mind, as much as Jaskier responded to “I don’t want to”, Geralt had to wonder whether the opposite was also true.

“I want to play.”

There was a heavy pause as Jaskier looked over him, assessing and contemplative. Whatever he was looking for, he seemed to find even if his lips pressed into a firm line.

“Now who is being bossy?” he teased and Geralt huffed a little, not quite laughing. “Okay, we’ll try something. Go to the bedroom, strip and lie on the bed. I’ll be there shortly.”

Gearlt couldn’t remember the last time he moved with such speed. Even while sluggish and tired, he was keen and was naked, sprawled on the bed in what he hoped was an inviting pose for when Jaskier joined him. Closing his eyes, he listened intently, could hear Jaskier pottering around, the clink of plates being set in the sink, the cupboards opening and closing, followed by the tap running. All soothing sounds and Geralt found himself drifting.

“Hey sleepy,” Jaskier greeted, two glasses in hand. “Get under the covers.”

It was a break in the mood and Geralt pouted a little. He’d wanted to keep his end of the promise and give Jaskier what he wanted. Which was a submissive he could tie up and do as he pleased. A look from Jaskier reminded Geralt that, in a way, they were actually playing, he had agreed to let Jaskier take control. Which meant that Jaskier wanted him under the covers for some reason. After a short, internal debate, Geralt slithered under the covers and felt a burst of happiness when it earned him a smile.

Shedding his clothes, Jaskier slipped in too and pulled Geralt close against him.

“Now, I need you to be good for me, okay?” His voice was soft and warm as his hands began to roam over Geralt’s body, making teasing passes, gauging Geralt’s level of interest. It was probably a testament to Geralt’s fatigue that he didn’t notice the lube Jaskier had grabbed until a slick hand was closing around his half hard cock and stroking over him.

The world rolled a little as Jaskier pulled him on top, keeping him close with hands on his hips. With a few sharp kicks, the blanket was off them. Initially, Geralt had thought he’d used too much lube but something told him Jaskier knew exactly what he was doing (as per usual).

“I want you to use me to make yourself feel good,” Jaskier murmured, smiling up at Geralt. To urge him on and demonstrate, he gave Geralt’s hips an encouraging push, rolling them a little.

At first, it felt a little silly, the angle was alright but not enough to do more than titillate. It took Jaskier gently guiding him, encouraging Geralt to move before he had one of Jaskier’s thighs between his and he could rock against it.

“That’s it. Take what you need.” The words were purred and Geralt looked down at Jaskier, a little hopeless and lost. He didn’t expect an encouraging smile or the fingers to squeeze his hips. “I’m yours darling, have me as you want.”

Slowly, Geralt picked up a rhythm, his hips flexing and thighs tensing as he rocked against Jaskier’s thigh, riding the building pleasure. Even better, one of Jaskier’s hands left his hips and he got to watch his boyfriend take himself in hand, giving his cock a quick squeeze before matching Geralt’s pace.

More encouragement and praise dripped from Jaskier’s lips, voice breathy as his own climax loomed closer. He was almost begging Geralt, asking him so sweetly to be used for his pleasure and it made Geralt whimper. His own hands were on Jaskier’s chest and he could feel the thundering beat of heart under his palm. Somehow, between the soft words and the bodily pleasure, Geralt lost himself, the world fell away until all he was aware of was his building orgasm and Jaskier practically begging him to be good and ride him.

“That’s it beautiful,” Jaskier encouraged. “So good for me. Using me for your pleasure. I want you to ride my thigh until you’re making a mess of me. Need you to come for me.”

Looking down, Geralt watched how Jaskier seemed enthralled, watching him. They were both sweaty, Geralt’s muscles were starting to tremble from exertion. Angling his hip a little, he gasped, cock sliding through the lube. He was so close and he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Jaskier’s, caught in his adoring gaze. Words like ‘gorgeous’ and ‘pretty’ echoed in his mind. At the last moment, Geralt squeezed his eyes shut as he came, hips jerking through the aftershocks with each gasping breath punched from his lungs.

A hand was guiding him down and he rested his head on Jaskier’s chest. The way his boyfriend’s muscles worked under him, there was no doubt that he was getting himself off and Geralt was jostled when Jaskier’s body went taut before sagging with a groan.

They lay like that for a few more minutes, catching their breath until Jaskier’s clean hand carded through Geralt’s hair with a soft “you okay?” which was met with a nod and a grunt. Lightly chuckling, Jaskier turned to reach for the nearest thing he could grab to wipe them clean. Well, mostly himself. It was fitting that his own shirt was the thing he grabbed.

Still a little dazed, Geralt rolled onto his back and let Jaskier wipe over him before cleaning himself. His mind wandered a little and he stumbled upon an idea that seemed brilliant in the moment.

“We should try a new kink.”

Next to him, Jaskier spluttered a little and chuckled. “Got something in mind?”

Lazily, Geralt twisted so he was on his front and hummed. “Something you haven’t tried.” Which, given Jaskier’s experience, there wasn’t probably a lot. “You like your sub being full. Ever stuffed a dick before?”

The silence from beside him had Geralt looking up and he was met with Jaskier’s wide gaze. He cocked an eyebrow to prompt an answer.

“I mean, I haven’t actually. Are you volunteering your dick?”

Which was an obvious question that Geralt thought had an obvious answer. He nodded nonchalantly. It was something he’d actually read up on a little a few weeks back, having stumbled across it while watching porn. A few videos and a decent orgasm later, he was wondering what it would feel like.

“I’d want to do it safely,” Jaskier warned. “Have someone show us first because that’s something that I can imagine going horribly wrong.”

There was something hesitant in Jaskier’s voice, as if he had an idea but wasn’t sure about saying it. So Geralt looked at him and silently waited. Whatever it was, it likely was a good idea.

“While Cahir and I played, he used to help out with workshops, teaching at them. It’s where he met his boyfriends. I think he’s played around with sounds before and I trust him. How would you feel if I asked him if he’d be willing to show us?”

It was a little strange, the idea of Jaskier’s previous sub showing them things with his boyfriends. But then again, Cahir was never Jaskier’s boyfriend. It was no different than Jaskier running into one of the doms Geralt had done things with before they met. Or, worst case scenario, running into Yennefer.

“Sure. Ask him.” Better be safe rather than sorry.

“I’ll ask you again tomorrow, just to be sure” Jaskier replied, pulling the blanket over them gently. Stroking over Geralt’s back, they drifted off to sleep. Well, Jaskier probably gently drifted off, Geralt was more like a rock in water, slamming into it from one moment to the next and sinking into the blissful depths with a light snore.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some mysteries are answered. Geralt is still very much, well, Geralt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for kinks and squicks will, from now on, be included in the end notes for each chapter.
> 
> A huge shout out to hubblegleeflower for offering to beta and doing an absolutely amazing job on this chapter. You've been saved not only some interesting typos but also some pacing of emotions which has resulted in an extra 2k being written for this chapter. So credit where it is due, hubblegleeflower is absolutely the saviour of this chapter.
> 
> Also, there has been a lot of speculation for who Lambert and Eskel's third could be. Popular theory was Cahir but we've also had guesses of Vesemir, Valdo Marx, Filavandrel and Coen. It is time to reveal who guessed right.

It took a little while to set up an evening with Cahir and co. To say that Geralt was nervous was an understatement. On one hand, he was going to be learning a new thing and the last time he studied for anything outside of work related things was years ago. It made him worry he wouldn’t be good, that he would fail. Plus, while on the theme of failing, he was about to meet Jaskier’s ex-submissive. While it wasn’t a competition, Geralt was still scared that he wouldn’t measure up. Stood next to what sounded like Jaskier’s ideal submissive where they had everything but a spark, Geralt feared he would be seen for what he was, with all his shortcomings. But he wanted to try, wanted to make Jaskier happy. Plus, he was rather curious about sounding. Even if they never ended up trying it after the demonstration, he could at least say that he considered it and gave it a serious go.

Naturally, Jaskier knew he was nervous and tried everything in his power to help. In a way, he seemed to treat it like a scene. Maybe, in a way, it was.

“We’ll get to the club early,” Jaskier was rambling again. On the surface of it, he seemed utterly at ease, almost giddy with excitement. But Geralt liked to think he knew him well enough to see through the facade. The more nervous Jaskier got, the more he tried to structure and control a situation. In a way, it was part of what made him such a good dom. If he was uncertain or out of his element, he broke things down into smaller, more manageable chunks that were easier to stick to. Not more rules as such, just more clarity.

Their plans for the evening were fairly straightforward. They’d get to the club, find somewhere quiet to sit and settle. Geralt knew he would be antsy and jittery, which was why Jaskier had suggested getting there half an hour earlier than planned. They’d agreed that Geralt would kneel by Jaskier’s feet until Cahir came along. Nothing more, just some quiet time to settle into the mood of the club and for the two of them to spend a bit of time together, no expectations beyond trusting each other to be there.

Getting ready was a relatively straightforward affair. Geralt wasn’t one to primp and preen though he did put on his nicer, tighter pair of trousers, ones that always drew Jaskier’s eyes. Plus, he put on a bit of aftershave, wanting to be someone Jaskier could be proud to call his. And it wasn’t like he didn’t know Jaskier would be dressed to impress in his own, peacocking ways. To be fair, Jaskier always dressed to look good.

“What do you know about the boyfriends?” Geralt had asked in the car on their way to the club.

“Actually, not a lot. They work erratic hours but usually one of them is home by the time school’s over for Cahir. He said it can make marking homework either really relaxing with someone dozing by his feet, or very rewarding when there’s the promise of something more to spur him on to finish.” Jaskier spoke as much with his hands as his voice and Geralt was grateful to be the one who was driving.

It struck Geralt as odd that Jaskier would know so little about two people who were going to help them understand a kink. That he didn’t even know names was peculiar. When he said as much, Jaskier shrugged.

“Cahir’s a very private person. Plus, it’s not like he knows your name. You’ll meet soon enough and be able to get to know each other anyway.”

It wasn’t the most reassuring explanation and Geralt was on edge from having to meet three new people then watch as they demonstrated sounding on each other. His life had certainly taken a more bizarre turn since meeting Jaskier. But it was definitely a turn for the better. Parking up, he turned to look at Jaskier who offered him an easy, wide smile before leaning over the centre console.

“If at any point you want an out, we stop. No pressure. Just like you’d stop for someone else, they’ll stop for you. Plus, Cahir’s lovely, I’m sure his boyfriends will be nice too. He’s not the type to settle with bastards.”

It was as much reassurance as Geralt could take. He wasn’t some fearful, wilting wallflower that needed coddling. But the kiss Jaskier pressed to the corner of his mouth was most certainly welcome. Turning, he captured his boyfriend’s lips in a proper kiss, pouring the emotions he couldn’t quite voice into the touch.

Inside the club, as promised, Jaskier guided them to a more secluded corner. It wasn’t too busy just yet and a few eyes lingered on them. However, neither of them wore wristbands, meaning they were very much off limits and nobody would approach them. Sitting down in a chair with a glass of sparkling water, Jaskier fussed with the pillow before gesturing for Geralt to kneel down. It was almost second nature to gracefully sink down and kneel by Jaskier. There was a certain amount of comfort in the familiarity and Geralt wanted to grumble about how well Jaskier seemed to know what would calm him. However, instead, he lay his head against Jaskier’s thigh and sank into the peace that came with such moments, a hand stroking gently through his hair. It wasn’t his usual headspace that Geralt slipped into. He was still very much in control, and aware, not floating like he sometimes let himself get when kneeling. Relaxed and at ease, Geralt felt Jaskier shift under him, thigh tensing and hand in his hair slipping down to squeeze his shoulder. Cahir and his boyfriends were there.

Raising his head and opening his eyes, Geralt took in the man coming to a stop in front of them. Oddly formally dressed in black slacks, white button up shirt and a knitted black sweater vest, Only, over the outfit was a black leather body harness that also clipped around his thighs. It was subtle, strangely appealing and Geralt could appreciate the aesthetics of it, if not the practicalities. Eyes drifting beyond the softly smiling man, Geralt’s stomach dropped through his feet. Because behind Cahir stood Eskel in a soft, asymmetrical, red leather coat that helped highlight his broad shoulders. And next to him was Lambert, a slender black collar around his throat. Both of them looked just as stunned as Geralt felt. In the matter of a second Geralt was up on his feet and backing away.

“Red. Roach. Whatever the fuck. Just. Stop.” The words were rushed and Jaskier was up in a flash and facing him. The concern would have been easy to see in his face if Geralt had been looking at him. As it was, he was staring at his two friends and barely able to breathe through his panic.

“Cahir, why don’t you guys go grab some drinks, find a table. Give us a few minutes.” Not waiting for a reply, Jaskier’s attention was back on Geralt, a hand reaching slowly to touch his shoulder. “Let’s sit you down before you fall down.”

Heavily, Geralt landed in the armchair and, in a strange reversal, Jaskier was crouched in front of him peering up with worry filled eyes.

“What happened?”

Breath catching in his throat, Geralt couldn’t get the words out. Instead, he leaned forward and buried his face in his hands. His friends, his colleagues had seen him kneeling, being weak, submitting to someone else. It was something he couldn’t afford, to be seen as something less at work because of what he liked in the bedroom. They probably wouldn’t mock him for it but Geralt would still be able to feel their judgement. It would sour his friendship with them too and he’d lose the most significant people in his social circle.

A glass of sparkling water was wavering in front of him,Jaskier was once again standing and trying to encourage him to drink. Blindly, Geralt took it and sipped, not caring he wasn’t the overly fond of such a drink usually. Glancing to the bar, he could see both Lambert and Eskel shooting concerned looks in their direction.

“Eskel and Lambert.” He managed to grit out and hoped that Jaskier would understand.

“Oh!” Obviously, Jaskier had been paying attention to the stories from work that Geralt had shared. “You already know them.”

Geralt looked at Jaskier and could read that the next words were almost “that’s wonderful” before he realised it wasn’t and bit back on the words. Instead, Jaskier stepped so Geralt’s view of the bar and the trio were obscured.

“Okay,” Jaskier breathed heavily through his nose, almost like a sigh. “That’s a hard no on any kind of workshop tonight. Which is fine.”

It wasn’t fine though, Geralt had fucked up yet again. Shame burned through him harder than before. Not only had his friends seen him in such a vulnerable position and learned about his bedroom preferences, they had also seen him absolutely lose his shit, word out of something that wasn’t even physically demanding. Fuck. Geralt dreaded to think how much he’d destroyed their friendship just by having such a reaction to their appearance, let alone the circumstances.

At least his breathing was coming a little easier as he drank the water. But he still couldn’t sit up straight and look around. No doubt people were looking in their direction, judging and maybe even thinking less of Jaskier for making his sub freak out so spectacularly.

Crouching back down, Jaskier’s eyes flitted over his face before meeting Geralt’s hopeless gaze head on.

“First things first, I am so fucking proud of you for using your safeword.” The scoff on Geralt’s lips was cut off. “You were uncomfortable with the situation and put a stop to it. Thank you for trusting me with that.”

Too tired to argue, Geralt shook his head which Jaskier took as an invitation to continue, “Secondly, as I said, we’re not doing anything even remotely sexual or kinky tonight. But that doesn’t mean we have to go home. Would you like to stay for drinks?”

After a moment, Geralt nodded. He didn’t want to admit absolute defeat and become a total failure. “It would be rude to not say hello to them at least, wouldn’t it? They came all the way out here just for us.”

“I don’t care about them right now. If you want a quiet drink with just the two of us, that’s fine. I can shoot Cahir a text, he’ll understand and I’m sure the other two will too.”

Finally, Geralt looked up and glanced towards the bar where the three were leaning against it, drinks in hand and chatting. They seemed oddly at ease, especially Lambert and Eskel, as if their whole view of Geralt hadn’t just shifted.

“You do realise,” Jaskier spoke softly, looked over too, “that the fact they’re here means they’re into this kind of play too. Did you know that about them?”

Shaking his head, Geralt tore his gaze from them and looked at Jaskier, a little lost. He hadn’t considered that. Not for a moment did he think about how Lambert and Eskel had agreed to help demonstrate sounding to their third’s ex-dom. Which led to a few more realisations. Cahir was their third, they looked comfortable in their getup and in the club, suggesting this wasn’t their first time. Cahir was Jaskier’s sub before. So either Lambert or Eskel had to be a dominant while the other was a submissive because it was safe to assume they were into this kind of play before Cahir. Another furtive glance and Geralt knew more about his friends’ sexual preferences than he ever thought he would.

“We should probably go say hello at least,” he said and took Jaskier’s offered hand to pull him up.

The five of them ended up in a booth at the edge of the club. Other than Jaskier’s gin and tonic, nobody was actually drinking alcohol. It was awkward, the silence stretched until Eskel finally worked up the courage to speak.

“You know the guy in Bay 9 that came in with suspected intestinal obstructions just as you went off yesterday?” Vaguely, Geralt could remember, something about stomach pains. “You’re so lucky you didn’t have to deal with him.”

It wasn’t like Eskel to talk about cases so openly but his mouth was curling already so it was bound to be a great story.

“Well, you know how it’s standard for such cases to do a PR exam, yeah? So I got gloves, lube, got him into position. And I tried to stick to guidelines and not tell him to clench his arsehole on my finger. Instead, as suggested, I used all the nice language and told him that when I say, he needs to squeeze his bottom.”

Geralt had no idea where this was going but Lambert was already snickering. Encouraging Eskel to keep going, he nodded.

“So I get in there and tell him to squeeze. And this, well, genius, he looks over his shoulder and, while keeping eye contact, slowly reaches behind him and squeezes his own butt cheek.”

Lambert was already dying, bodily leaning into Cahir, face scrunched up. Not that Jaskier was any better, head thrown back as he laughed while Geralt chuckled.

“It gets better!” Eskel held up a hand to get their attention again. “So I say to him that no, he needs to squeeze around my hand, because you know, I was trying to use his logic.”

He had to break off because Lambert was wheezing from laughing too hard. While Geralt had a suspicion, he knew where this was going, Jaskier was leaning in and listening raptly, encouraging Eskel to continue when he could.

Already laughing a little, Eskel carried on. “So, this absolute genius, still maintaining unbroken eye contact, he stops gripping his own arse cheek and reaches to wrap fingers around my wrist and gives it a steady squeeze.”

Jaskier burst out giggling, smacking the table as Geralt snorted too. It didn’t stop Lambert from squeezing out an “aw babe, he just wanted to hold your hand. I can’t blame him, I’d want to do that too.”

“Sap!” Eskel retorted lovingly.

It only spurred Lambert on to stick his tongue out and say, “Lies. I’ll bite you.”

“I won’t hesitate in muzzling you again.” That sounded like a very genuine threat and it brought Geralt up short and his eyes dipped to the collar, mind going back to hearing Eskel refer to Lambert as ‘puppy’ on the phone to Cahir. Definitely more than he could have ever wanted to know about their sex life. He waited for Lambert to lash out and snarl, be embarrassed about being put in place like that. Instead, he watched as Lambert playfully snapped his teeth at Eskel with a smile, as if goading him into making good on his threat. It wasn’t something Geralt could understand. Surely Lambert would want to behave and hide his submission. That was what Geralt wanted to do. At least everyone seemed to be graciously ignoring the fact he’d had to use his safeword and not making a big deal of it, neither coddling him nor mocking him for it. Small mercies and all that.

Conversation turned more to work and Geralt tried to make an effort to get to know Cahir better. Because even if things between him and his friends was going to crumble, he could at least make their last sociable evening together pleasant. It was all too easy to turn the conversation from hospital work to Cahir.

“I hear you’re a teacher.” It seemed like a nice opening to bring Cahir into the conversation more fully.

“Yeah, I teach 5-11 year olds.”

It was a bit of a surprise, somehow, Geralt had assumed that Cahir would teach older students, maybe postgrad or even night classes. He opened his mouth before thinking, “Aren’t you worried the parents will find out about everything you get up to outside of school?”

A sudden silence settled around the table as nobody, not even Geralt, could quite believe he asked that. However, Cahir dipped his head with a sad little smile.

“Well, aren’t you worried your patients will find out what you get up to outside of the hospital?”

Geralt blinked dumbly. “How would they know what I do? I never tell anyone.” And realisation hit him. “Oh. Sorry. I’m an ass.”

“Yeah, just a bit,” Cahir agreed, finally meeting Geralt’s eyes.

Not quite daring to look to Lambert and Eskel for fear of what he might see, Geralt nodded. “I’m really sorry, I didn’t actually mean to ask that.” Next to him, Jaskier was quiet, letting him claw his way out of this one. Or not willing to help him after the disaster Geralt had proved himself to be that evening. Either way, he was on his own. “I didn’t think before spouting crap that society likes to ask.”

That, at least, seemed to help soften Cahir’s stern look. And fuck, he really did look every bit the disappointed teacher.

“Your first thought is what society teaches you to think. Your second thought is who you truly are.” His eyes flicked to Jaskier. “Isn’t that right, Boss?”

The old nickname was a habit from times gone by and Jaskier rolled his eyes. “And you’re a good boy for remembering. Maybe your boyfriends will reward you for that later.”

Such teasing familiarity and nod to the past had Geralt on edge a little, wondering whether Jaskier was having regrets. As much as he didn’t want to know about his friends’ sexual dynamics, Geralt was still somewhat grateful when Eskel’s hand gently gripped the back of Cahir’s neck possessively.

“Don’t forget who you belong to now,” he growled, “or I’ll set Lamb on you and you’ll have to deal with the world’s saddest puppy dog eyes.”

The coy look Cahir sent Eskel spoke volumes about how he already knew and was just pushing to get a reaction. Geralt heard the soft snicker of “brat” from Jaskier but nobody else seemed to pick up on it.

For the rest of the evening, they managed to get along quite well. Geralt kept an eye on Lambert and Eskel, waiting for them to treated him differently. Yet, for some reason they didn’t go through Jaskier to ask him anything, didn’t seem to regard him as anything less. There wasn’t even a hint of Geralt being seen as anything lesser than he was before the night. Which Geralt had thoroughly expected because they had seen him submit and, almost worse, enjoy it. As they were leaving, Cahir gave Jaskier a phone number for a Regis who he tended to run workshops with. If they were still interested in sounding, this was someone else who could help them.

That night, Geralt was curled up in bed, alone in his house. He had dropped Jaskier off but then had headed home, needing a bit of space to try and get his head into order. Even though Jaskier had tried to force the issue of staying, Geralt had stood firm. Time alone was what he needed now, not cuddles and soft words of reassurance.

Worries of how the night had gone kept him awake. Despite it being fairly positive on the whole, Geralt couldn’t help but mull over every moment he got wrong or reacted badly. The initial near blind panic, the stupid question about Cahir, worry of whether Lambert and Eskel would think less of him now. It was all too much and he barely managed to get some sleep, flipping his pillow repeatedly to get to the cool side, kicking his sheets off when they tangled in his legs. At least Geralt had the sense to not have a visible clock in his room because then he would have just watched the minutes tick by and would have berated himself for each wasted minute that he hadn’t managed to sleep for. However, the street outside had fallen silent long since, even the late night revellers having gotten home and probably into bed before he finally fell asleep.

Work was a slog, busy as usual but Geralt shied away from Eskel, avoided his company as much as he could. While the night before, in company and in the emotional aftermath of everything it had been easier to ignore, the very real fears were now fully rearing their heads. If it had been Lambert, it would have been easier. At least he wore his heart on his sleeve and would be easy enough to read. But Eskel, he had always been a bit more reserved, more guarded with his head. And there was a small part of Geralt that was more scared of Eskel. It was obvious he was the dominant in the relationship. Given how often Geralt was mistaken for a dominant, he worried that Eskel would think less of him now. At least with Lambert they were on the same level as submissives. Usually, he and Eskel would bump fists as they passed each other or acknowledge the other in some way. Now, if Geralt saw Eskel, he’d walk the other side of the consoles in the centre of the room. Or he’d turn and do something else to avoid any interaction. Each time Eskel tried to approach, Geralt would find a reason, any reason to avoid him. He didn’t want to hear the no doubt rehearsed and gentle words Eskel would try to let him down with. Be it disappointment that Gerlat was so vulnerable and obviously not suited to their work or probably that he wasn’t a good enough submissive. The frowns and looks Eskel sent him meant that he’d realised Geralt was avoiding him. But Geralt wasn’t like Lambert, he couldn’t deal with confrontation, not about such things. This was probably why Lambert was fine being a submissive, he had a fire to him that Geralt just lacked. That much was obvious the previous night, painfully so.

It took three days before Lambert ended up cornering Geralt in the breakroom.

“Why are you being weird?” No beating around a bush, not even the pretence of small talk. When Geralt didn’t reply, Lambert crossed his arms over his chest and stared a little longer. “Since the night at the club, you’ve been odd. Avoiding Eskel, shying away from me.” His arms dropped to his sides and his shoulders drooped. An aura of sadness and defeat emanated from him in a way Geralt had never seen before. “Do we make you uncomfortable?”

That had Geralt’s head whipping up. Such a question made no sense. Eskel and Lambert had never made him uncomfortable. If anything, they were an aspiration for what looked like a balanced relationship. The additional knowledge of their dynamic just highlighted how they had their shit together. It had never once crossed Geralt’s mind that maybe the other two were nervous about his reaction and were taking his distance as personal criticism. Frantically, he shook his head.

“No.” His denial didn’t seem to ease Lambert’s posture and his mind clawed at his throat, trying to force more words to come. “Never. You’re, well, you’re my friends. I hope.”

That at least drew a small shift from Lambert. Not that Geralt could interpret it, too lost in trying to figure out what to say. Finally, he managed to pin his emotions down.

“More the other way round.”

Which didn’t make much sense and he could see Lambert trying to understand what he was just saying. The moment it clicked, Lambert’s expression went blank.

“I know you’re not stupid.” Bit hopeful to assume that, but Geralt was too tired to argue. “You quite literally know that the three of us are into some kinky shit, we were going to show Cahir’s ex and new beau how to safely stick metal rods in dicks to get off. You saw me in a collar and get called puppy. At what point did all of that make you think we were going to judge you?”

When put like that, Geralt did indeed feel very silly for assuming. But he couldn’t quite shake the feeling. His hand came up to gesticulate the words that weren’t coming. He was trying and trying so hard but this kind of thing had never come easy to him. “You saw me kneeling.” Pausing, he took a breath before admitting his failure. “Then word out.”

Scoffing, Lambert groaned in obvious despair for his friend. “You looked good kneeling, okay? Happy. It was the most relaxed I think I’ve ever seen you. Then something happened that you didn’t like so you did the right thing and worded. So what? We’ve all been there.”

There were so many emotions and questions swimming in Geralt’s head, he couldn’t quite figure out which one to voice first. Because he wanted to know since when Lambert was so blasé about failure. Last he knew, Lambert was hotheaded and got into all sorts of trouble when he felt like he was not living up to expectations and lashed out. But also, Geralt wanted to know how Lambert got into play, how he knew so much about it all and, most importantly, why he was being so nice about everything. However, he didn’t have the words and Lambert was no mind reader.

“Look-” there was defeat in Lambert’s voice, “-we just want you happy. If this changes things, that’s a shame but we understand. Just stay safe, okay?”

It felt like a goodbye of sorts and Geralt wasn’t prepared for that. “I want to be happy. But I’m not sure I know how.”

That got him a sad smile and Lambert nodded all too knowingly, as if he had been there and knew what it was like. Which was silly, Geralt very much doubted anyone had been quite in his shoes before. Yet, before any more sharing could happen, one of the doctors bustled into the room, effectively ending their conversation.

Only, while the words had stopped and they both returned to their tasks, Geralt’s mind kept churning over it. He’d once again managed to get it wrong, to make Lambert and Eskel doubt themselves and their friendship with Geralt. It cemented the idea that Geralt was somehow broken. He could do his job decently but that was about all he seemed to be good at. But, maybe, he hadn’t messed up so badly that he couldn’t salvage the friendship. At least, Lambert hadn’t seemed angry or hostile, just sad.

Despite such thoughts, it still took Geralt another two days before he tried to make amends. Those two days were long and lonely, lunch without Lambert or Eskel there was empty. Geralt actually missed his friends who seemed intent on giving him the space he had so hamfistedly forced between them. Texting Jaskier was nice but Geralt had asked for some space there too and it seemed his boyfriend was actually listening to him too.

The new norm had been for Geralt to find something to fiddle with at the end of his shift and wait for the other two to get changed and leave before he got ready to head home too. Steeling himself for whatever was to come, Geralt stepped into the changing room, knowing Lambert and Eskel were in there already. There were many things he expected, awkward silences, staring, being turned away from and shunned. None of that happened. Instead, Eskel was sat on the bench, fiddling with his shoes while Lambert was talking, arms flying all over the place.

“Just do it,” Lambert was saying, wheedling almost. “You can do it, you’ve got the brains and the experience for it. Apply or I’ll do it for you. You know I know all your details.”

Two things struck Geralt about the whole situation. Firstly, it was obvious Lambert was pushing Eskel to apply for the senior position that had opened up. It was something Geralt would agree with Lambert on, Eskel was the ideal candidate. However, on the tail of the thought came the puzzlement of the fact that Lambert, as a submissive, was needling Eskel, his dominant. Surely that couldn’t be a done thing, it went against all established dynamics that Geralt knew about.

“You should apply, you’ll be good,” he said softly, craving the easy friendship they had before.

“Now you’re all just ganging up on me,” Eskel groused but he smiled a little, only hesitating a little at the sight of Geralt.

Something eased in Geralt’s chest at that. There was a sliver of hope that things could be salvaged between them. He walked to his locker and pulled his clothes out, content for things to lapse into silence for a while. It gave him the time to think and work up a bit of courage.

“I think I owe you both an apology.”

A pin could have dropped and the sound would have echoed in the room. Turning, Geralt clutched his clothes to his chest in a subconscious barrier. Two pairs of eyes were watching him, slightly shocked.

“I’m sorry.” These were words Geralt had practiced and rehearsed in his head, even ran it past Jaskier who helped tweak it a little. “For alienating you. And making you think I judged you. I wasn’t.”

It was Lambert who nodded, a hand on Eskel’s shoulder. There was no telling whether he was offering Eskel comfort through the touch or drawing it himself. Possibly both at the same time.

“Thank you. We were worried we’d lost your friendship.” The strangest thing was that Lambert sounded so level. Geralt was used to him being very reactionary, speaking his mind without filter. And yet here he was, calm and warm in a way Geralt had only seen him be with patients at work.

Maybe this whole submission thing had been good for Lambert, mellowed him out. In a way, Geralt had been looking for something similar from such play, a way to manage his emotions. He nodded and looked between his friends. “I hope you can forgive me for the missteps.”

Eskel glanced up at Lambert before looking back to Geralt with a small smile. “We’ve had our own share of missteps and stupidity. It would be hypocritical of us to drop you just because we had a miscommunication. Lambert told me he had a chat with you.”

Once again, the dynamic between the two was one of equals and Geralt was struggling to wrap his head around it, even though it was the only way he had known them to be until meeting them at the club.

“How do you make it work?” The words were out before he could think them through. “Work and play.”

It was Lambert who seemed to understand the question more and he shrugged as if it wasn’t such a big deal. “Scenes and play are very much structured. Sure, there’s a bit of bleed through, you’ve heard Eskel call me ‘puppy’ as an endearment. But that’s just what it is. Outside of set scenes, I am still very much myself, an equal in every sense of the world.” A frown creased his brow. “Are you in a 24/7 situation? Do you need help getting out of it?”

Really, it was no different to Geralt telling Jaskier he couldn’t be his submissive round the clock. Geralt had thought he was unusual for insisting on that. Yennefer had been happy to boss him around and act more like a dominant even when they weren’t doing a scene. He hadn’t bothered really challenging it because she was usually right with her demands. But Geralt had assumed that kind of power dynamic was the norm. So to hear Lambert echo his own feeling back at him, it was strange.

“How did you figure it all out?” In a way, it was a quiet plea for guidance, for reassurance that Geralt himself was doing the right thing.

“You know what I did?” It was a rhetorical question and Lambert answered it before Geralt could even make an enquiring hum. “I realised I’d fucked up. Esk and I started experimenting, it went a bit wrong when I lashed out.” There was a quirk to Eskel’s lips as though something so serious was nothing more than just a fond memory to softly laugh about now. “So, I took myself off to anger management classes. Best decision I ever made. Plus, to keep safe, we went to a few workshops. Understood what we were getting into, discovered a whole new range of play plus met some cool people.”

A happy little smile warmed Eskel’s face as he picked up the story, “It’s how we met Cahir. He was helping out with a workshop on chastity and cage play. Turns out that’s not one for me but that’s beside the point. But yeah, we met there, got along a little too well, exchanged numbers and the rest is, as they say, history.”

With so much being shared, Geralt felt relaxed enough to be able to maybe give up a little of his own experiences.

“Yen left me, I went to the club every now and then. One evening, Jaskier beckoned me over, didn’t say a single thing to me, just had me kneel by his feet. It was one of the most relaxing evenings I’ve ever had.”

A knowing nod was his reply. Obviously, Lambert had had similar experiences.

“From what little I know, your Jaskier is one hell of a dom. You got almost as lucky as I did with my two.” The proud, pleased look made it impossible to tease Lambert about this. Not that Geralt really wanted to. Their conversation got cut short after that, some other tired soul coming in to get changed and leave for their life outside of work. However, after that chat, things with Eskel and Lambert seemed to settle back into their old way of things, as though the fact that Geralt liked to submit had no bearing on his competence at work or their friendship. Who would have guessed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No active kink in this chapter but heads up for mentions of sounding, implied puppy play, use of safeword and a lot of emotions plus a borderline panic attack (poor Geralt).


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt almost takes a step forwards. Almost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kink warnings in end notes.

Having asked for space after the incident at the club and everything that followed, Geralt found that he actually missed Jaskier. Not just his company but also his warmth. After the initial panic had died down and he could think a little more clearly in the aftermath, all Geralt found himself wanting was to curl up against Jaskier’s chest and be held. It didn’t make sense, it wasn’t anything he had ever really indulged in or been allowed before. He felt weak for craving it, for not being content with his own company. The only logical thing to do was to keep his distance until the need went away. Which was a great plan until he found himself sat in his car, pulled up a few doors from Jaskier’s house, phone in hand. After a 20 minute debate with himself, Geralt chucked his phone on the passenger seat and drove himself home, cursing his weakness.

At least they could still message, Jaskier seemed content to move things at Geralt’s pace, even if there were soft queries about whether Geralt was working too hard, if he had enough time off to recentre himself after everything. Each contact left Geralt wanting more until he couldn’t take it anymore. He sat in the car after talking to Lambert and Eskel, trying to muster up the energy to drive home. It was gone five and he knew Jaskier would have finished work, he usually said if he had a client in the evening and this time there had been no mention of one.

Pulling up in the street, Geralt parked and stared at his phone. He felt so foolish but all he could think about was Jaskier and the calm he could find by his side. Of all the people, it had been Lambert who gave him the courage to admit that maybe wanting Jaskier wasn’t as weak as he had assumed. Despite this boost, Geralt still wasn’t confident in ringing Jaskier so he opted to send him a message.

[Are you busy?]

He stared at his phone, waited for the three little dots of a reply to appear but his screen went dark before that happened. Geralt zoned out a little and squinted with a grumble when his phone lit up again, vibrating in his hand.

[Never too busy for you. What’s on your mind?]

It took three attempts to type out, delete then type his reply again.

[Could we talk?]

The reply came through much quicker than expected.

[Give me three minutes and I’m all yours.]

So Geralt set a timer for three minutes. When two and a half passed, he got out of the car and walked towards Jaskier’s front door. His phone began ringing before his alarm went off.

“Hello,” he said as he picked up the phone.

“Geralt.” Jaskier sounded a little guarded, if Geralt had to hazard a guess, he would have thought he was worried.

“I know it’s a bit short notice but, could we talk face to face?”

There was a harsh exhale and he could imagine Jaskier nodding which wasn’t very helpful when they were having a phone conversation. Geralt stood in front of the door.

“Sure, when?”

“Would now work?” Geralt knocked on the door and took a step back, waiting. He could hear Jaskier curse under his breath and the sound of someone scrambling for the door.

“Just bear with me, got someone at the door, fuck, why is everything happening at once?” As Jaskier rambled the door swung open and Geralt got to see confusion cloud Jaskier’s face. “Oh. It’s you. I’m going to hang up now. Bye.”

“Bye,” Geralt replied automatically and lowered the phone from his ear, watching Jaskier do the same. For a long, silent moment they stared at each other. 

Jaskier moved first, gesturing for Geralt to enter his home. “It’s a bit of a mess, sorry.”

The word Geralt would have used for the house wasn’t ‘messy’. It was lived in, a home that was well used but not neglected. If anything, Geralt could imagine Jaskier relaxing after a day’s work. It was less tidy than when he had planned on coming over but then again, there weren’t sketchbooks shoved under the microwave this time.

“I was just doing something in the kitchen.” Strangely, Jaskier sounded a little sheepish. “Wasn’t expecting company so I got stuck in. If you can wait 20 minutes and let me finish, we can have some cheesecake while we talk.”

Actually, the idea of just being in Jaskier’s kitchen while he worked sounded like bliss. Geralt nodded and turned towards the kitchen, following Jaskier into it. It was a bit of a disaster zone. There were ingredients out along the counter, a cake mould along with a healthy dusting of what Geralt assumed was flour but, a subtle swipe and lick of his finger revealed to be icing sugar.

“Can I help?” Geralt offered and Jaskier looked at him. After a moment, some digestive biscuits were put into a sandwich bag, sealed and presented to him.

“Could you beat the shit out of this?” A beat of silence as Geralt looked at the bag of biscuits dangling from his fingers. “Crush it to crumbs for the base. Please.”

While Geralt got to work on pulverising the biscuits, he watched as Jaskier mixed things in a bowl, tasting it and humming. There was a nervous energy to his flitting about and Geralt couldn’t figure out what was causing it. With the biscuits laying in tiny crumbs in the bag, he stepped towards Jaskier, snagged him around the waist and pulled him in for a hug. For a brief second, Jaskier was frozen before he was hesitantly wrapping his arms around Geralt.

“Sorry.” Jaskier’s voice was a little lost in Geralt’s shoulder. “I just wanted a few more minutes where we could pretend.”

“Pretend?”

“That everything was okay. That I hadn’t fucked up.”

It was Geralt’s turn to freeze and consider just what was going on. He didn’t understand. As far as he was concerned, he had been the one to mess up, to freak out so bad there wasn’t even a chance of going through with their planned demonstration. Then, once again, it had been him who asked for space, kept his distance. So any kind of fucking up obviously rested on his shoulders and not Jaskier’s.

“I’m sorry,” Jaskier repeated again. “It took talking to Priscilla and Valdo to realise just how badly I got it wrong. I betrayed your trust.”

This was absolutely not a conversation to have in the middle of the kitchen with a half mixed cheesecake on the side. Yet, it seemed it was exactly where they were going to have it. Geralt pulled away from the hug a little and was horrified to find that Jaskier was staring up at him with wet eyes.

“You trusted me to set it up, to keep you safe. And I took that trust and abused it. Set up a workshop with someone that I trusted and took his word about who else was involved. I never stopped to think what it might look like to you. Bringing my ex-sub and his unknown boyfriends in to show you how something is done.”

Actually, Geralt hadn’t really considered it like that. He just thought he needed to tough it out because that was the expectation of a submissive. Obviously, his silence had been taken as a sign for Jaskier to keep talking because he was off again.

“And I’m so sorry for that. I didn’t mean to put you in such a position. I just- I should have known better.” A sniffle interrupted his rambling. “Then, you know, you asked for space and I gave it despite wanting to run to you, to- well, to make sure you’re okay.” Jaskier broke off with a shrug. “Because you used your safeword and I was so proud of you. Yet I couldn’t give you everything I wanted to because you asked for some distance.”

Some of Jaskier’s mannerisms reminded Geralt of that fateful night with the cane. It made something like worry churn in his chest and Geralt tugged his boyfriend in close.

“Jaskier,” he said slowly, measured and calm, “did you drop?”

A small wet laugh and shake of head was the initial response before Jaskier pushed his face into Geralt’s shoulder. “No. I just got very worried. Maybe a bit stuck in my head. Thought maybe I’m not as good for you as I fancied myself to be.”

That was Geralt’s line. He had been the one to let Jaskier down, to put a stop to everything without even giving his own friends a chance to show they were capable and kind. So really, it was Geralt’s failings that had dragged Jaskier down rather than Jaskier being at fault. Alas, Geralt didn’t know how to put all that into simple words that would convey everything easily. Maybe one day he could, but until then, he went for the next best thing.

“But I love you.”

This was maybe the right thing to say because Jaskier clutched at him tighter and took a deep, shuddering breath.

“I love you too. But I want to be good for you, to just love someone isn’t enough if it’s also a toxic relationship.” The words jarred Geralt and he tried to figure out why their relationship would be toxic. Sure, this incident wasn’t great, the issue with the cane had been another hiccough. And the few times Geralt had pushed things when he shouldn’t have. But those were all on him, nothing about Jaskier was toxic. Other than one particular pair of underpants that was, for want of a better description a toxic green.

Echoes of ‘human first, dom second’ haunted Geralt’s mind and he wondered whether he had managed to not quite take that to heart. Maybe he had accidentally shifted his view of Jaskier from dom only to boyfriend. He was going to have to do better.

They stood in the middle of Jaskier’s kitchen, holding each other for a long while. Eventually, Jaskier pulled away and offered a small, sad smile. “I should be the one fussing over you and praising you for everything you’ve done. And yet here you are, coddling me.”

As if Jaskier should have been running after Geralt and pandering to his whims. Awkwardly rubbing a hand over his back, trying to give the comfort he never let himself even dream about. It was definitely not very practised but actions spoke louder than words. Then again, Jaskier was always so verbose, there was a probable chance that he favoured talking rather than physical affection.

“You were doing what I asked. I-” a muscle in his jaw jumped as he tried to do the right thing, “I appreciate it. And you. You did good.”

In his arms, Jaskier physically sagged, as if Geralt had given him benediction and absolved him of some heavy crime. This was hitting Geralt’s limits for emotional talk and he steered to conversation away. “Why don’t we finish the cheesecake?” 

The irony of the fact that he’d said he wanted to talk but now realised that he had no idea what he wanted to say was not lost on him.

Funnily enough, the cheesecake seemed surprisingly easy to make, if a bit messy because Jaskier had about as much luck with icing sugar as Geralt had ever had. It erupted in clouds with each spoonful Jaskier added to the mix, giving his hair a rather interesting, powdery coating. At least the same fate wasn’t so obvious on Geralt, except for his black shirt.

Looking down at himself, Jaskier laughed a little, taking stock of how thorough a mess he had made. Before he could make any kind of comment, Geralt jumped in.

“Now you’re as sweet as you look.”

It had the desired effect of making Jaskier smile and look away, a little flustered. With the cheesecake spooned over the base and put in the fridge to rest, there was very little to do aside from clean the kitchen and maybe clean themselves up. Though, to be fair, Geralt was quite certain his shirt was a lost cause without a turn in a washing machine.

Together, they cleaned up the mess with a couple of wet rags and minimal cursing. How Jaskier managed to get a glob of cream cheese on the handle of an eye level cupboard was beyond Geralt. It had to be some kind of special skill.

“Guess that just leaves us to get clean.” Jaskier looked a little nervous. “Want to take a shower? You can borrow some clothes if you’d like.”

The idea of wearing Jaskier’s clothes was appealing but Geralt bristled at how he was offered the first shower. He reached out and pulled Jaskier closer.

“Or we could shower together.” He watched as Jaskier licked his lips, swallowed and nodded. All in all, an excellent reaction.

There was a new shyness to them stripping. As Geralt’s shirt landed in the laundry basket, he marvelled at the fact that it had, so far, gone relatively smoothly. Well, aside from how they were both shying away from the other. Hugging in the kitchen had been fine but, as Geralt pulled his socks off, he couldn’t miss the way both he and Jaskier were keeping their eyes above shoulder level. It seemed that any kind of forgiveness had been stripped away with their clothes.

“Do you want-” Geralt asked right as Jaskier started with a “You first.” It would have been funny had it not also been stressful. It had been so all over the place that evening, moments of openness mixed with this awkward emotional dance around each other. Maybe Jaskier was still expecting Geralt to break things off with him. Mind wandering, Geralt stepped into the shower and pulled Jaskier in along with him. Their strange impasse seemed to break when Geralt tugged him in close and wrapped his arms around him.

“What did you want to talk about?” Jaskier blurted out. Maybe this was the crux of the issue, once again Geralt had used the wrong words.

“I missed you,” he rumbled, holding his boyfriend close. “Wanted to see you.”

There was a light laugh from Jaskier and he shook his head, pressing closer against Geralt’s body. “So you told me we needed to talk as an excuse to come over?”

“Yeah.” There was no point in denying it and Geralt smoothed a hand over Jaskier’s back, trying to reassure with his body where words weren’t doing their job.

In response, Jaskier pulled away a little to look at his face and clasp it between two wet hands.

“You are ridiculous and I love you for it.” The words were followed up by a kiss that tasted of icing sugar and cheesecake in the most tantalising of ways. “Here I was, worrying I’d driven you away. And you, what, you were trying to figure out how to ask to see me?”

Close enough. Geralt hummed in what could be taken as agreement. It bugged him that Jaskier thought they would split over something that was so obviously Geralt’s fault. If he hadn’t freaked out, they wouldn’t have been in such a situation to start with. Those words he couldn’t muster up earlier really ought to hurry up and come to him. For now, he rubbed at Jaskier’s back again and offered him a crooked smile.

Getting clean was a relatively lighthearted affair after that, it was almost like a weight had fallen from Jaskier’s shoulders and he was relishing in the world once again. Getting caught up in the whirlwind of emotions, Geralt joined him, grinning and helpfully washing Jaskier’s hair. In exchange, Jaskier spun him round and urged him to his knees so his hair could be taken care of. Probably better care than Geralt himself would usually give it.

Finally free of icing sugar from even behind ears, they were shimmying into clothes, Geralt in sweatpants that were tight on his thighs and a hoodie that he was positively swimming in. He wondered how it would look on Jaskier who wasn’t much smaller than him.

“It’s my comfort hoodie,” came the explanation. “Feeling a bit rotten? Slip into that, grab a tub of ice cream, put on a shitty film and things are immediately better. Because now you’re super comfortable and have ice cream.”

The cheesecake wasn’t quite the resounding success they had hoped for. It hadn’t kept its shape or rigidity, sticking to the edges of the mould and it clung to the knife somewhat fierce. However, the taste was wonderful and Geralt was tempted to go back for seconds, actually doing so when Jaskier encouraged him to help himself. Sitting on the sofa, Jaskier’s toes tucked under his thigh, Geralt actually relaxed for the first time since the club.

“I wanted to say I’m sorry,” he said, staring into his bowl with a fierce glare. “For messing up again. And for making you doubt us.”

Setting his bowl aside, Jaskier shook his head and wormed his way under Geralt’s arm, slinging his own across his boyfriend’s chest. Snuggling in, he pressed a kiss to Geralt’s cheek.

“It’s on both of us. But we’re adults, we’re talking about it and that’s the most important thing. We can’t fix something that we don’t talk about honestly.”

Geralt’s mind jumped back to Lambert and his easy admission of going to therapy. And Jaskier’s voice echoed in his head from early on. Because Jaskier had said he wasn’t going to act as Geralt’s therapist but offered to help him find someone if he so wished. Maybe there was something more to the whole therapy thing than going ‘woe is me’ to a stranger. If Lambert could go through with it and come out happier, maybe Geralt could too. But it was a scary thought, the idea of opening up to someone he didn’t know. It was difficult enough already to explain what went on in his head to friends. To do it with someone who didn’t know about Geralt’s nuances, it seemed like a futile effort because it would only end in frustration and annoyance for both the therapist and Geralt. Shoving those thoughts to the side, Geralt glanced around.

“Want to watch something?” he asked, content to keep holding Jaskier.

The TV was turned on and they settled in, Geralt only half paying attention to some mockumentary (at least, he really hoped it wasn’t a documentary) while his brain churned away. He kept circling back to the question of therapy and whether he wanted to risk it.

It was late and Geralt was reluctant to leave but he didn’t know how to ask if he could stay. The last week without Jaskier had been strange, he had gotten used to sharing a bed with someone from time to time and to have that snatched away, by his own hand no less, had been difficult. So Geralt just let the TV keep playing, suggesting other things to watch, hoarding every extra minute he could hold Jaskier against his chest. Yet, as with everything else, it had to come to an end.

Blinking sleepily, Jaskier let out a large yawn and stretched before twisting in Geralt’s arms to face him.

“Could you, I mean, would you like to stay for the night?”

A rushed “yes” of relief was all Geralt could gratefully get out, relieved that Jaskier was willing to still share a bed with him. Not that he really had a basis for his doubts but Geralt wouldn’t be himself if he didn’t assume the worst. Instead of driving home to an empty house, he got to burrow in under Jaskier’s duvet and pull his boyfriend closer, trying to make up for all the cuddling they’d missed out on over the last week.

It was always easier to talk in the dark where reactions and facial expressions were impossible to read. Nobody could see Geralt’s cheeks go red or the way he worried his lips before talking. With Jaskier’s head on his chest, he took a breath which had his boyfriend humming in question, anticipating his words.

“I was thinking,” he said, firm and measured. However, the second half, asking Jaskier if he could help by recommending a therapist, got caught in his throat.

“Always dangerous,” Jaskier said, smile evident in his voice.

“Could we try-” it was almost painful to get it out.

Encouraging, Jaskier hummed. “What shall we try, my darling?”

Mind whirring through a thousand thoughts, Geralt frowned as the reality of his decision loomed. The end point was clear but the simple steps to get there, even under the cover of darkness suddenly seemed too large. Was he asking this as something he’d do for Jaskier? Or for himself? He didn’t want to admit another defeat if it failed. Maybe Jaskier wouldn’t notice anything and then Geralt would know that therapy was just a pointless exercise in forced vulnerability. Plus, Lambert could find his own therapist, Geralt could just ask him how he did it. Or, because he was an independent adult, he could do his own research. However, he’d opened his big, fat mouth and now Jaskier was waiting for something that probably wasn’t “could we try finding me a therapist”. So Geralt panicked and said the first thing that came to his mind.

“Could we try figging?”

Which was also definitely not what Jaskier was anticipating, given the way he froze for a moment. Geralt could almost feel him thinking.

“Figging?”

“Yeah.” Geralt stuck to his guns.

“Sure. It’s basically a ginger root used as a plug, right?”

It was and Geralt had only a mild passing interest in it, more theoretical than a real desire to actually shove a peeled ginger root into himself. But he’d said it now and, if Jaskier was amenable, it looked like this was what they were going to be doing. He could hear Jaskier inhale sharply.

“You know what? Fine. Let’s do it. We’ll go shopping tomorrow and give it a go. Both of us. Because I’ve never done it either.” He was babbling, obviously nervous and Geralt gave him a soft squeeze.

“Thank you,” he rumbled. “I’d like that a lot.”

That was how, after a day at work Geralt was meeting Jaskier at the supermarket where they’d shop for food and ginger that most definitely wasn’t going to be eaten. There was a knot of nerves in Geralt’s stomach, both good and bad. Because he was a little excited to be trying something new and potentially thrilling. At the same time, he was worried it would go bad or one of them would hate it so much the other’s enjoyment would be forgotten about. Even worse, Geralt feared he would be the one to not enjoy it and therefore ruin Jaskier’s pleasure. To pile more pressure on, Jaskier now laboured under the impression that this was something Geralt really wanted.

Grabbing a trolley out of a misguided sense of helping, Geralt was surprised that Jaskier took one too. Though it probably made sense if they were both grocery shopping, might as well get some chores out of the way while they were there.. They meandered through the aisles, picking up things they’d need for the coming weeks. The disparity between them was quite astounding. It seemed that Jaskier was happy to cook most nights, buying fresh things or what would keep in the fridge until he used it. Then again, his rather crowded spice rack should have given that away. By comparison, Geralt’s focus was on quick meals, easy to make and filling. Bland but relatively healthy without any flair.

They were browsing the vegetable aisle when Jaskier held up two bulbs of garlic questioningly. He also looked a little uncertain. Puzzled, Geralt waited for him to shuffle closer.

“Will these do?” Jaskier held the garlic bulbs in his palm for closer inspection.

“For?” Geralt was mystified.

Eyes darted up to meet his. “For, you know. What you asked if we could try.”

All Geralt could think was “what the fuck?” because they were not trying anything with garlic. Which could only mean one thing.

“Jaskier, that’s garlic.”

“Yes?”

Counting backwards from ten, Geralt saw the moment it clicked in Jaskier’s head. A bright red flush, eyes round and a stagger back. There it was.

“Oh. Oh fuck! I conflated ginger and garlic again, didn’t I?” He laughed to hide his embarrassment. “I was wondering how we’d peel it because then it would fall apart to cloves and then it would be more like playing awkward slot machines with our backsides. And then I got wondering whether we’d be farting garlic smells for a day after, you know, like your breath smells of garlic after eating it.”

It was utterly ridiculous and Geralt couldn’t help it. He laughed softly and grabbed Jaskier by the arm, pulling him in for a hug.

“You are a disaster,” he rumbled fondly and gestured to his own trolley where there were two innocuous looking roots of ginger already. “Consider it sorted.”

Thankfully, the rest of the shopping trip was relatively normal though Jaskier did sometime mutter “fucking garlic” under his breath each time he remembered it. It only served to endear him to Geralt even more.

They returned to Jaskier’s house again, simply because it was closer. Unpacking the bags was oddly domestic, even if Geralt only shoved a bag of his things into the cleared space in the fridge. Most of what he bought would be fine in the car overnight but some things needed to be refrigerated. The two roots of ginger were left out on the countertop and they ended up side to side, arms around each other’s waists and staring at the roots.

“How do we do this?” Jaskier ended up asking, leaning his head on Geralt’s shoulder.

“We start with a kiss,” Geralt replied and twisted them so Jaskier was leaning against the counters. It was a solid start really, easing them into the moment. No pressure, no expectations, just them making out in Jaskier’s kitchen like they had done before. The most natural thing was to reach for his shirt and start unbuttoning them, truly appreciating the fact Jaskier never really bothered doing up his shirts all the way. He was helped along by Jaskier pulling away and yanking the shirt over his head with a proud grin.

Two could play at that game and soon enough, they were naked save for a single sock on Jaskier’s foot, hands roaming over each other. Pulling away, Jaskier looked around with amusement hidden behind his eyes.

“We didn’t exactly plan this well. Shall I go grab the lube?”

Geralt nodded. “I’ll start peeling.”

It wasn’t the sexiest thing on earth, they were both half hard, lips shiny and puffy from all their kissing. But rather than do more about it, Jaskier was trotting off to the bedroom for lube, hopping as he pulled his last sock off while Geralt found a knife in the drawers. They had agreed that, as the roots were slimmer than two fingers, they wouldn’t need much in the way of prep so they could just get straight to point.

The scent of ginger enveloped the kitchen and Geralt was almost done with one by the time Jaskier proudly brandished a bottle of lube next to him. Finally peeled, he offered up the root to Jaskier.

“Want to go first? I’ll peel the other one in the meantime.”

Attention split between his own root and Jaskier, Geralt watched with interest as lube was carefully spread over the ginger.

“Sure you don’t want me to help?” he asked, checking one last time that Jaskier was certain. They had concluded that they’d each be in charge of their own ginger, pulling it out the moment it didn’t feel nice or they didn’t want it. Though Geralt couldn’t imagine what could be so bad about ginger. It wasn’t like it was an onion which drew tears from eyes at just being cut.

“Alrighty, here we go,” Jaskier announced. It wasn’t like a fantasy at all, there were no swathes of silky sheets, no romantic lighting or music. Yet it didn’t bother Geralt. He watched curiously as Jaskier braced a hand against the counter, a small frown of concentration on his face. The moment the root slid in was obvious, confirmed by Jaskier’s little “huh”.

“How’s it feel?” The question was filled with curiosity and trepidation as he put the peeler away and grabbed the lube for himself.

“Oddly anticlimactic. The lube’s cold and the ginger is just softly warming.” Jaskier paused, eyes distant as he tried to make sense of what he felt. “It’s like drinking an ice cold apple juice mixed with a shot of whiskey that burns on the way down.” The frown deepened as Geralt finished spreading lube on his ginger. “Fuck, make that pure whiskey.” Frown morphed into wide eyed horror. “Nope! Fuck that! Nope!”

The ginger was pulled out amid distressed hops and Jaskier waving a hand ineffectively by his backside.

“Oh how I wish I was flexible enough to blow on my own hole. I’m going to pour milk all over this. Fucking hell it burns!”

If Jaskier hadn’t been so red in the cheek, Geralt would have laughed at the dramatics. Instead, he reached out to try and still his boyfriend with a soft “you okay?” which was met with a look.

“Of course I’m okay. It’s only a ring of fire down below, don’t worry. I’m sure I’ll fart out the flames soon.”

It was too much and Geralt snorted in amusement. He wanted to reach out to Jaskier and reassure him but the comedic value of the situation was too good. Plus, he had no idea how milk would be placed in situ without some designated equipment. It wasn’t like he could whip a funnel out of a cupboard and start pouring like it was going out of fashion.

“I’m glad you have so much sympathy,” Jaskier grumbled, settling down a little. “Thank fuck the burn is fading. I would not recommend that!”

He eyed the ginger in Geralt’s hand sceptically. It didn’t matter though, they’d said they would do it together and Geralt was really curious now. There was no way it burned as much as Jaskier made it out.

“Fair’s fair,” he said and moved around a little, lining up the root. Pressing it in, it wasn’t anything special. Jaskier had been right, the lube was cool and the ginger was only a warm tingle seeping through it. Yet it built up rapidly and Geralt’s breath caught in his chest. “Fuck, that’s intense.”

“Told you!” Jaskier crooned but he was watching Geralt with sharp eyes. “You like it, don’t you?”

It was Geralt’s turn to go red in the cheeks as he nodded. The ginger had built up quite a burn, warm and all consuming but there was something so very wonderful about it. He didn’t expect Jaskier to all but purr in his ear, “Well then, I think we can work with that.”

A hand was wrapping around Geralt’s cock, teasing it back to hardness from where it had softened. Even more surprising, Jaskier dropped to his knees, licking over the length before taking the tip between his lips.

“I want you to keep it in while I blow you,” he said, voice soft and asking rather than commanding. Mutely, Geralt nodded and worried his lower lip as the sensations started to overwhelm him. While the ginger was the source of the burning heat, it felt like his whole body was on fire, a fine sheen of sweat covered his body. As Jaskier bobbed his head, Geralt swore, knees almost giving out so he doubled over, bracing himself against the counter.

“Close,” he warned and Jaskier squeezed his thigh in acknowledgement.

Geralt made a slightly wounded noise as Jaskier pulled away for a moment, hands continuing the work of his lips. “Clench down on it for me.”

Obedient, Geralt did as told and cried out when Jaskier swallowed around him. The burn flared bright, mixed with the pleasure and Geralt came with a feral growl, hands tight on the edge of the counter.

As the initial waves of pleasure swept through him and his senses returned, Geralt looked down at Jaskier with lips parted, slightly dazed.

“Wow,” he managed to grit out. The ginger needed to come out though, now that the pleasure had passed, he could sympathise with Jaskier. Straightening up, he pulled it out and frowned at it.

“In the recycling,” Jaskier guided, standing up rubbing his knees. “So, that’s a winner for you?”

Nodding, Geralt was a little bashful but he couldn’t help what he liked. It was made better by the fact Jaskier only smiled.

“Good to know. Maybe it’s something we can play around with later.”

Which was definitely a heady thought, giving Jaskier that kind of control over something so intense yet pleasurable. Geralt was definitely going to be hoping for playing around with it in some scenes.

Those were the thoughts that rolled through his mind all evening, even as they headed for bed. They had a lot of plans, a potential session with Regis whom they looked up online together and decided to trust with a demonstration of sounding. It was all going so well. Which was why Geralt found himself lying in bed, Jaskier wrapped in his arms and already half asleep. He wanted to keep this, what they had. And so far, it had only ever really been rocked by Geralt’s own stupidity. If a therapist was able to help with that, give him hope for a future with Jaskier, then maybe Geralt could risk giving it a go. He would do his own research though, find someone he felt vaguely comfortable with. And Jaskier would never need to find out so, if it didn’t work, Geralt wouldn’t need to admit to yet another failure. But he would try, if not for his own sake then at least for his and Jaskier’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter we have figging - also known as the unconventional use of peeled ginger roots.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That's one small step for man. One giant leap for Geralt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no excuse for missing an update last week. Hopefully this chapter makes up for it. As always, all the love to hubblegleeflower who is the most incredible beta, keeping me on track and having such grace when dealing with my special brand of stupid.
> 
> Kinks and warnings in the end notes.

Things settled after that. It wasn’t smooth but Geralt was hopeful that the worst was behind them. They managed to have a workshop with Regis that was both awkward and not in the oddest of ways. Because Geralt had never been to such a thing, never had sex shown to him in such a practical way, demonstrated almost clinically. Yet it was helpful too. At first, he had assumed it might be a bit like putting a catheter in but Regis had gently informed him that a catheter was a malleable tube and not a solid rod of surgical grade steel. All this was said so matter of factly that Geralt didn’t feel like a dunce for assuming. In fact, once he had been able to put aside the fact that this was a demonstration for sex rather than work, he actually found it both fascinating and useful.

“I’m not sure I’d want a metal rod jammed in my dick,” Jaskier had mused as they were in the car on their way home. “If it’s something you’d like, it would be hot to explore it with you. I’d love to see you strung out and writhing but I don’t look at a sound and think ‘yes, tonight is the night’ before shoving it in my own dick.”

In a way, Geralt did and didn’t. Because it did make him shiver with eager interest, wanting to know what it felt like. But at the same time, he knew that if it wasn’t his idea of a good time but it was Jaskier’s, he would have let it be done to him all the same. Probably. It felt like that was what Jaskier was offering too which was no different really. There was a kernel of discomfort at the idea of Jaskier doing something just because it was expected of him rather than because he wanted to. He didn’t want to think about Jaskier forcing himself into anything so Geralt did what he did best and stopped thinking about it.

They didn’t do anything that night, Geralt curled around Jaskier, his chest pressed against a warm back. It meant Geralt could bury his nose in the short hair at the top of Jaskier’s neck and let his senses be flooded with the scent of his boyfriend. It was calming and reassuring, the novelty of being allowed to share a bed without having to exchange the privilege for anything had Geralt lying awake for a while, relishing it. It wasn’t the first time he had been allowed such a luxury but he still wanted to treasure it, fearful that it might be the last time, if not ever then for a long while at least.

Things got a little difficult when Jaskier wanted to arrange for a scene. He had ordered sounds Regis had recommended, along with a few other bits and pieces. Oddly, despite his declaration of sounding not being for him, Jaskier sounded very excited at the prospect of his parcel arriving. It was announced with a series of pictures as he unboxed it, each image captioned with something from as inane as [!!!!!!!!] to [I can’t wait to see this slide into you. You’ll sound so pretty as your breath hitches.]. Not that Geralt would ever admit it, but he jerked off to that promise, imagining Jaskier making good on his words.

However, finding a time for a scene was proving awkward once again. Not just because of Geralt’s work. He had marked on Jaskier’s calendar the hours he was working so that was fine. But Geralt had been busy on his days off. With more care than he’d ever shown, he meticulously deleted his search history after each browsing session. The porn, he didn’t mind staying. The therapists’ websites though? Those he carefully deleted and buried any evidence of looking at. After days and days of research, he had narrowed it down to two potentials that he might consider trying to phone and he spent hours staring at their sites.

In the end, Geralt tossed a coin to determine which therapist he would approach. Destiny would be his guide on this one. Privately, Geralt hoped the coin would land on its edge but he had no such luck. Grabbing his phone, he made a call and, despite his lacklustre enthusiasm, he ended up with an appointment. Which was at the same time as Jaskier’s suggested scene when he asked about meeting up again a few days later. Coming up with an excuse was more difficult. Usually, Geralt would have said he was with Lambert and Eskel. However, knowing that Jaskier could check that with Cahir meant Geralt was struggling to come up with an excuse that was credible.

“I was thinking maybe Thursday. You’ve got the early shift, I’m done at four.” Jaskier was almost purring down the phone at Geralt, tempting him. And, in all honesty, Geralt was on the verge of agreeing to it, cancelling his therapy appointment just so he could escape into the familiarity of Jaskier’s care.

Instead, Geralt surprised even himself. “I can’t.” Except, now he needed an excuse that was believable and didn’t involve the truth because Geralt wasn’t ready for that. “Roach is having her booster jabs. She tends to be poorly after them so I stay with her those evenings.”

An absolute lie, Roach wasn’t due her boosters for another eight months and she couldn’t care less about them. But Jaskier didn’t need to know that.

“Oh the poor darling!” Jaskier actually sounded distraught at Geralt’s words. “Absolutely go fuss her. Make sure the vet uses the baby needle on her, give her an apple to cheer her up and-” he trailed off as he probably wondered what on earth horses might enjoy, “-braid her mane with some daisies.”

Laughing softly, Geralt shook his head. This was why he loved Jaskier and why he had even considered trying therapy. Because he deserved so much more than Geralt could offer.

“How about Saturday afternoon?” It was an offer Geralt wanted to make, to find time for him and Jaskier. After all, Geralt did love him and wanted to spend time with him. Though ideally without the pressure of being seen as a failure if therapy didn’t work out. Thankfully, Jaskier seemed enthused at the prospect and set about making plans for Saturday.

The week went by and Geralt dragged his feet on Thursday, wanting time to slow down, maybe even skip around a little - especially if it meant being able to zip past the therapy appointment and only having to relive it through memories rather than actually experience it. He had no such luck and, after finishing up, Geralt had a bit of time to kill before heading out to the address he had been given.

As far as buildings went, it was quite a nondescript one with a list of businesses on the side. Geralt pressed the button to the discreetly titled one and waited to be buzzed in. Inside, it was all primp and proper. The stairwell was clean, without any personality and the waiting room on the second floor had some generic art on the wall. Nobody else was around and Geralt was thankful for that. He didn’t want to bump into anyone else, it would be his luck to come across a patient who recognised him.

“Geralt?” The voice sounded like the one he spoke to on the phone and the man it belonged to looked exactly as he sounded. Pleasant, older than he was, glasses and bland. Introductions were made, hands shaken and the man’s name flew from Geralt’s head as soon as he sat down. Not to worry, he hopefully wouldn’t have to call the therapist by his name.

“So, what brings you here?” Such an open question and Geralt suddenly found himself without words. He stared at the small coffee table between them and frowned.

“Not sure.”

It was obviously the wrong thing to say because the man frowned a little. Uncomfortable, Geralt shifted in his seat.

“Well, what brought you here today?”

“My car.” Geralt wasn’t being difficult, not on purpose but he had no idea what else to say. Was there even a way to articulate exactly what he had come for when he wasn’t even sure himself? The therapist let out a small laugh, obviously forced.

“Tell me a little bit about yourself then.” That was a little easier, Geralt could talk about his job and Roach, even mentioned Jaskier. All while, the therapist nodded and hummed as if he was listening to the most revealing of secrets about Geralt. Frankly, it was off putting and Geralt couldn’t imagine Jaskier doing that with his clients. Maybe he should have taken up the offer of help for finding someone good because obviously Geralt had failed.

“Geralt,” the therapist drew his attention back. “Therapy is about honesty, both with yourself and your therapist. I would like to know what you hope to achieve from coming to see me.”

They were back at that question and Geralt still didn’t have a good answer. He fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, twisting his thumb into it.

“Maybe we’ll come back to that question later then. Why don’t you tell me what you have planned for the weekend?”

Honesty was important, Geralt could do this, he could be upfront and honest. This was for Jaskier, for them. He took a deep breath.

“I’m going to let my boyfriend dominate me and push a metal rod in my dick for the first time.”

The therapist blinked silently at him and Geralt stared back.

“Lovely.” The word was somewhat choked back and the therapist was at an absolute loss. Geralt decided to put them both out of their misery.

“This isn’t working. I’m sorry to have wasted your time.” He stood up, ready to leave and the therapist stood up too.

“It can take a few tries to find someone you’re comfortable working with. I can think of someone who might be better suited to your needs and dynamic. May I refer you on?”

With nothing left to lose, Geralt shrugged. “Sure. Thanks again for your time.”

It had been an utter waste of time, effort and money. Geralt wasn’t sure just what he had been expecting but this had been more underwhelming that he could have anticipated. Both on his part and the therapist’s. Gritting his teeth, he drove home with a scowl, wondering whether the other place he’d considered could be worse. Or if who this guy would refer him to would be just as stuffy and easy to shock.

Late at night, he stared at his phone, wondering just what he could possibly do. He didn’t want to message Jaskier, the bitter sense of failure still too sharp on his tongue. However, Geralt really didn’t want to be alone. In the end, he kept returning to one number to message.

[The therapist you saw, was that the first one you tried?]

Lambert was slow to reply, he was working night that week so likely wouldn’t see his phone until much later. However, Geralt was surprised when he got a message a few minutes later.

[3rd. 1st was nice but didn’t feel comfortable with me. 2nd was an absolute idiot. You thinking of giving it a go?]

That was oddly soothing to hear. If Lambert took a couple of tries then maybe Geralt wasn’t such a lost cause after all. It didn’t change his reply though. A single [No.] that didn’t gain any response. Not that he was wanting one anyway.

It was only when Geralt was lying in his bed and trying to go to sleep that an irrational fear struck him. While the odds were slim, the therapist hadn’t specified the gender of the therapist he would be referring Geralt to. The very real worry that it would be Jaskier seeped into Geralt’s bones. ‘More dynamic and suited to Geralt’s needs’ could easily be his own boyfriend. That would be...Geralt didn’t know what it would be but he barely slept that night.

Thanks to work and stress, Geralt didn’t talk to Jaskier the next day and even their messages were sparse. It had Geralt wondering whether the referral had already been made and if Jaskier was politely freaking out over it. He didn’t expect his phone to ring on Friday just before five with a number he didn’t recognise. Grouchy, he picked up with a gruff “yes?”

“I’m hoping to speak to Geralt,” a lilting female voice said, to which Geralt replied with “speaking” and waited for what dumb crap was about to be spouted at him. “Geralt, I’m Renfri and I have been given your number by Stregobor who thought you might find it easier to work with me. Is now a good time for a quick chat?”

Relief washed through Geralt, shoulders dropping and eyes closing at the fact it wasn’t Jaskier. He almost forgot to reply.

“Sure. I’ve got the time.”

Five minutes later, he had a new appointment set up for therapy with someone whose name he actually remembered. Maybe it was a good sign and this appointment would go better than the previous one.

Come Saturday, Geralt was quietly thrumming with anticipation. The knowledge that it wasn’t Jaskier he had been referred on to and he wasn’t about to have an awkward conversation with him meant Geralt was actually able to relax and enjoy the excitement already building in him at the prospect of their shared scene.

Ringing the doorbell, Geralt was entertained by how quickly the door was flung open, almost as if Jaskier had been waiting for him.

“Eager much?” he teased as he stepped into the now familiar house. Long gone was the pseudo tidy look and Jaskier gracefully accepted the peck to the lips in greeting before skipping through the house.

“Can you blame me?” Jaskier shot back, a hand coming up to tick things off on his fingers. “I get my handsome,beloved boyfriend for the evening.” He tapped his thumb. “Which means I can spoil him rotten-” a second finger, “-exactly the way he asked me.” Why that was the third one was not clear to Geralt. “Then-” Jaskier leaned in close, “-I get to stuff his pretty dick full and finger him until he is a quivering mess.” His smile was almost contagious and cheeky. “What’s there not to be happy about?”

Feeling braver than usual, Geralt pulled his t-shirt over his head and cocked an eyebrow at Jaskier. They were launching into things quicker than anticipated but they were both seemingly quite keen to indulge.

“I want you naked and lying on the pillow I’ve set up in the playroom. Be quick about it.” Jaskier growled, also shedding clothes as he went.

Wanting to please, Geralt hurried ahead and by the time Jaskier entered, freshly emerged from the bathroom with clean hands and stripped down to his jeans and nothing more, he was sprawled on the pillow, idly stroking himself to full hardness. He grinned at the tut Jaskier let out and stretched a little, showing off.

“I guess I didn’t say you couldn’t touch,” Jaskier grumbled. Everything was already set out and ready but Geralt knew they weren’t going to launch straight into it. Sure enough, Jaskier was kneeling down next to Geralt and guiding his hand away from his cock. “Don’t touch what’s mine from now,” he growled playfully and Geralt allowed his arms to be gently placed above his head.

The position was easy enough on Geralt, he was more than content to be moved around as Jaskier saw fit. It had never been an issue before, allowing someone else to decide how his body was placed. However, this was the first time that Geralt’s muscles weren’t tense with nervous anticipation, without the worry of being struck and hurt against his will. Sinking into the safety of Jaskier’s care was getting easier, trusting him to stick to their agreed plan for a scene.

There was some deviation from their agreement but it wasn’t unwelcome or even truly unexpected. Jaskier leaned down and kissed Geralt, sighing into the touch even if the angle was all wrong to make it more than a messy press of lips and tongues against each other. Rather than feeling frustrated that Jaskier wasn’t getting straight to the focus of their scene, Geralt sighed and melted into the pillow a little more.

“I’m going to have you so full,” Jaskier promised. “Just need to decide how full.”

His hand hovered over the set of sounding rods set out to the side, fingers poised to pick up something thicker than the thinnest which they had agreed on. It made Geralt’s breath hitch even though Jaskier had asked his permission to insinuate he might pick something thicker without actually following through on the threat. Worry sat low in his gut that Jaskier would indeed pick something thicker that would hurt him. The words were on his tongue, ready to back out as soon as Jaskier’s hand landed on a thicker sound in the set.

“Easy darling,” Jaskier’s hand smoothed over his stomach, leaving quivering muscles in its wake. “I was just teasing, sorry.”

The sounds were left for the moment, Jaskier returning to kiss Geralt, work across his jaw and down his neck while his hands roamed. It definitely helped but Geralt was still a little on edge, mind stuck on the threat of a bigger sound. With much less dramatics, Jaskier picked up the slimmest piece of metal and held it up for Geralt to see.

“This is the one I’m going to use. Nothing more, I promise.”

Nodding, Geralt licked his lips and forced himself to relax back against the pillow. The soft “thank you, my beloved” helped ease his mind.

“You’re gorgeous, half hard already and leaving me wanting.” The sound was still in Jaskier’s palm but he shuffled down Geralt’s body. “Irresistible. I’m going to spoil you.”

Another pleasant surprise that wasn’t part of their plans, Jaskier licked over Geralt, lips coaxing him into full hardness. For a moment, Geralt almost moved his arms to thread fingers through Jaskier’s hair but he remembered in the last moment that he wasn’t to move. Pulling off, Jaskier smiled up at him.

“That’s better. How about we see how eager you are to be filled?”

The lube was grabbed and Geralt watched as it was spread over the thin sound. This was what he’d wanted, had asked for. They’d even gone to a workshop for it so they both knew what to do and not do. Somehow, it was that knowledge that had Geralt nodding, finally relaxing into the pillow properly rather than the forced attempt he had going before.

Somehow, the sound wasn’t too cold, Geralt had expected it and the lube to be chilly. Instead, it was trailed over the tip of his cock teasingly, the slit run through a couple of times. Logically, Geralt knew it was to make sure there was enough lube but it felt much more like Jaskier was taking his time, building up to the moment he would sink the sound into him. Arms still above his head, Geralt sighed and watched Jaskier’s body. He was loose, moving fluidly, eyes fixed on what his hands were doing.

“I love that you’re already leaking,” Jaskier murmured and his eyes flickered up to Geralt’s, dark with desire. “Shall I stop teasing you now?”

Even as he spoke, his hand moved over Geralt’s shaft, sending lazy rolls of pleasure through him. The fact that this was Jaskier checking in didn’t elude Geralt but it didn’t grate on his nerves. Instead, he licked his lips and nodded.

“Please. I’m yours.”

“I know,” Jaskier replied, eyes lighting up, corners of his lips quirking into a gentle smile. “Mine to adore, to worship, to devote myself to.” He leaned closer, voice dropping to something softer. “You’re my treasure, you know that? I want to give you everything your sweet lips ask for.”

It was almost too much and Geralt let his eyes slip shut under the emotional assault that was Jaskier’s words.

“That’s it, don’t think,” Jaskier murmured and the sound was pressed lightly against Geralt’s dick. “Just feel.” At first it didn’t feel like much beyond a soft pressure with a very gentle slide. The tip slipped deeper with gravity and Geralt’s lips parted on a sharp inhale. Immediately, the rod stopped.

“More?” Jaskier asked, voice soft but without hesitation.

“Yes.” As if Geralt would want to say anything else. His cock was still straining, the sensation of it slowly being filled was novel but absolutely all consuming. Already, he understood why people did it. Heeding his word, Jaskier let the sound go, only steadying it with a gentle finger and letting it gradually glide in.

Against his control, Geralt’s hips flexed, rolling up into the feeling of the sound stretching him. Nothing else existed in the world outside of Jaskier and the sounding rod. Every part of Geralt was focused on them, basking in the sensations.

“You’re a natural at this, already taken half the sound,” Jaskier told him. Two fingers gripped the metal where it met Geralt’s flesh and Jaskier teased the rod with his other hand. It shivered and vibrated under his touch, sending the motion into Geralt and he groaned, fingers flexing.

Anticipating the question, Geralt spoke first. “More, I want to take it all.”

The sound started sliding in again and Geralt moaned, legs spreading a little in invitation. Sure enough, Jaskier let the sound go, it was in enough that there was no risk of it tilting. A drizzle of lube was trickled over it before more was spread on Jaskier’s fingers.

“You’ll have everything you ask for and more,” Jaskier promised. Two fingers pressed against Geralt’s hole, not wasting much time in teasing. “Going to have you quivering on just two fingers and a sound. Look at it.”

Doing as asked, Geralt’s eyes opened and he looked down his body. Jaskier was knelt between his legs, a flush of arousal colouring his cheeks and chest. In front of him, Geralt’s cock was looking dark with need, his slit open around the sound that slowly continued its way down into him, Jaskier’s hand holding him upright to help.

The image was burned into Geralt’s mind, his legs spread a little wider still as Jaskier’s fingers breached him. This time, their focus wasn’t on stretching him, instead, they pushed in deep, gently working against Geralt until they found their target. Pleasure burst through Geralt’s body and his cock twitched at that first touch. It didn’t let up, Jaskier was lazily stroking over his prostate, making his breath hitch and soft gasps spilled from his lips.

“That’s it,” Jaskier murmured. “Let me do this for you.”

It was the sweetest torture that Geralt let himself drift on. The sound settled and a moan caught in his throat, the pressure of it not just filling him but also pressing down on something inside him. When Jaskier’s fingers rubbed just right, Geralt could barely breathe. His arms were still about his head and if he opened his eyes, he could look over himself and down at Jaskier who was still beautiful and powerful, even when kneeling between his legs.

“Jask,” Geralt muttered, barely audible. Yet Jaskier heard because he looked up with a smile, humming in question but not quite breaking the moment with his voice. “I need more.”

Whatever more was, Geralt had no idea. He stopped even trying to figure it out the moment Jaskier’s tongue ran up his cock, playfully flicking against the tip of the sound, nudging it ever so slightly. It had Geralt almost kick out in pleasure.

“Next time, I’ll pull it out with my mouth,” Jaskier promised. For now though, he grabbed the end of the sound and began to slowly pull it up. The sensation building into a wave ready to crest and it was everything that Geralt had needed, Jaskier giving it without him ever having to specify what the ‘more’ was. Watching it, Geralt couldn’t believe how much had been in him and feeling it all come out had his thighs shaking. In a true moment of multitasking, Jaskier’s fingers never stopped moving his fingers against his prostate. All of Geralt’s muscles felt tight and shaking, unable to do more than lock up in pleasure.

“Come for me, sweetheart.”

The sound slid free right as Jaskier pressed up harder and Geralt was gone. Around him, the world stopped existing beyond pleasure. It could have lasted a few seconds or a few hours. Vaguely, Geralt was aware of Jaskier pulling his hand free and moving up the pillow until they were cuddling, Geralt tucked against his chest. Unlike before, Geralt found it soothing, to be able to trust Jaskier to have him while so vulnerable. To know that Jaskier had his best interest at heart and enjoyed this as much as the bits that came before was something Geralt had grown to truly appreciate.

When he was ready, he raised his head and pressed a kiss to Jaskier’s cheek.

“All good?” Jaskier asked him, stroking over his back.

“Very.” The ‘thank you’ was barely held back by Geralt. At felt a little selfish, he had been treated with such care and affection but Jaskier hadn’t gotten off. In fact, Geralt couldn’t imagine him being very comfortable in the jeans. “What about you?”

“We have all night, don’t you worry.” Again, Geralt found himself nodding. If Jaskier said he could wait, it was okay. “We’ll get cleaned up, have dinner and then see where the mood takes us.”

It was a suggestion Geralt was happy to go along with, knowing that Jaskier could and would say if he needed something. As it was, Geralt was allowed to bask in the quiet of the room and collect himself after being so wonderfully scattered to what felt like every corner of the galaxy.

The rest of the evening was strangely quiet. They cooked together, Geralt knowing he was welcome to stay the night without even asking. While Jaskier didn’t ask, Geralt still ended up on his knees, pressing Jaskier against the cold counter and making him shriek. Once the giggling had died down, Geralt got back to his task of getting Jaskier off, racing against the timer on his phone so their food wouldn’t burn. It was a matter of quiet pride that Jaskier had his jeans buttoned up and was looking a little less dazed by the time the alarm went off. All in all, it was a very good evening.

By the time Geralt’s new therapy appointment rolled around, he felt no more settled or comfortable at the idea. Especially as the first attempt had been such a disaster. He still managed to drag himself to another building, this one a little further than he would have liked but the appointment had been made. To cancel it would have felt like a dick move. At best, Geralt would take the whole appointment and say it wasn’t for him. He’d find a third therapist and that would be it. Either third time was the charm like Lambert said, or Geralt was beyond help.

Renfri greeted him as he stepped into the waiting room. She was nothing like Geralt had imagined and definitely not someone he would have considered talking to. There was no way she could understand or relate to what he was trying to put into words. However, he was there so he might as well try.

They got the boring bits out of the way first, confidentiality, qualifications and the like. Once that was over, Geralt was expecting the tricky questions about why he was there, what he wanted to achieve and other impossible to answer demands that felt more like an interrogation. Instead, Renfri gave him a smile.

“Tell me a bit about yourself.”

Like before, Geralt talked about Roach, his job, mentioned Jaskier. But unlike before, the conversation flowed and Geralt never even realised how it transitioned from facts about his life to the dynamics of his relationships with the people around him. After the last attempt at discussing his and Jaskier’s weekend plans, Geralt was more than hesitant to bring it up. Yet, it was quite a large part of himself and avoiding it was impossible. Hinting at it wasn’t going to cut it and eventually Geralt worked up the courage to blurt it out. Renfri nodded along like it was the most natural thing on earth and that was that. Quietly, Geralt wondered whether Renfri was that easygoing or whether Stregobor had been very uptight. In the end, it didn’t really matter, what was important was that Renfri didn’t make it out to be a big problem. By the time the hour was up and another twenty minutes had passed, Geralt knew he ought to feel mortified for having talked so much about himself. However, Renfri gave him a sticker with a smiling dog on it and said he had done great for a first appointment.As ridiculous as it was, he ended up using the sticker on the sunvisor in his car. Only he would see it and know what it meant but it was an important reminder. The option of more sessions was there if he wanted it. Thankfully, Geralt didn’t have to decide then and there. He was given a phone number and told that if he felt he wanted to come back, Renfri would be glad to see him but the choice was ultimately his. While Geralt didn’t leave the building feeling magically better, he did leave with a lingering sense of hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kinks in this chapter: sounding.
> 
> Also, because I've seen people say Geralt in therapy is their kink, I guess Geralt in therapy should be tagged too :-P


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Side eyes calendar - where do the days disappear to? Horses are a lot more difficult to write than anticipated. Thank you to my lovely beta and horse expert, hubblegleeflower for all the help and patience!
> 
> Kink warnings in the end notes.

“How’s Roach?”

The question took Geralt off guard and he shrugged. “Fine. Why?”

“Cahir mentioned she was ill or something? About you needing to spend the evening with her.” Eskel approached Geralt, worried frown firmly in place.

It only deepened when Geralt didn’t have an answer at the ready. He hadn’t been expecting to be asked about Roach and didn’t have a lie to hand. So he shrugged. “She’s fine.” Silently, Geralt patted himself on the back for not telling Jaskier about therapy, he didn’t want others to know about it. Which was a pretty stupid idea because he knew already that he was going to be confessing it to Eskel.

“Geralt?” That was Eskel’s worried voice, one that he was far too familiar with, soft and gentle. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.”

It was absolutely the worst thing to say, too quick and too defensive and Eskel’s frown creased deeper. “Is Roach okay?”

“She’s fine.” Geralt had never been the best at outright lying. Omission was his preferred brand of evasion of the truth but he couldn’t even really do that with a friend.

“Oh. That’s good. I’m glad.”

The silence stretched. It got uncomfortable and the truth burned through Geralt. He knew Eskel wasn’t digging for details, would be okay if Geralt kept his secrets but there was the sense of it leaving some mark on their friendship. Taking a breath, Geralt braced himself. “I went to therapy. Didn’t want Jask to know.”

“Okay…?” That was it. Eskel smiled at him, obviously not quite getting it, but he didn’t stop moving, didn’t look shocked or aghast. It made Geralt open his mouth again, wanting a reaction, needing the reinforcement.

“It was shit.”

Finally Eskel stopped and turned to face him properly. “That’s crap. It can take a few tries. Will you try with someone else?”

He wasn’t disappointed in Geralt even though this was a failure he was being told about. Even under closer inspection, the only thing in Eskel’s expression was maybe a hint of rueful sympathy. It made Geralt plough on.

“Got referred. She seems pretty nice. Gave me a sticker.”

That at least got a pleased huff from Eskel but it wasn’t dismissive or sneering. Merely a genuinely entertained noise.

“Jaskier doesn’t know,” Geralt spoke again. “I want to keep it like that.”

Making a zipping motion, Eskel nodded. “My lips are sealed. Will you let him know eventually?”

“Maybe. If it doesn’t work, he doesn’t need his hopes crushed. If it does, he will realise anyway.”

“Who will realise what now?” Lambert wandered in and an awkward silence descended on the room. “Or I’ll just leave and pretend this never happened.”

Geralt knew his friends well enough to not do this to them. It was one thing to tell Eskel something in confidence but another for Lambert to know that there was something Geralt didn’t want to tell him. In a way, telling Eskel was the same as telling Lambert, the two were Geralt’s most trusted friends.

“I don’t want Jaskier knowing I tried therapy.”

He didn’t expect Lambert to nod as he heard, then actually process the words which brought a grin to his face. Even less expected was the clap of a hand on the shoulder with a “that’s great buddy, hope it goes well” that sounded so genuine. Silence followed and Geralt tried to keep his hands busy, preparing a multitude of responses to the myriad of questions he expected. There was no further interrogation and Geralt could get ready for work in peace. As he was about to head out, Eskel piped up again.

“We’re introducing Cahir to Scorpion at the weekend.” Which earned him a high five from Lambert. “He’s a bit terrified.” At that, Lambert snorted and shook his head. “If Jaskier wants to meet Roach at the same time, that would be nice.”

Humming, Geralt nodded. They could probably make it work, as long as Jaskier didn’t have an appointment.

“I’ll text you,” he said and headed out. The quiet murmur of voices behind him got cut off as the door closed and he didn’t bother trying to listen. It wasn’t like anyone who eavesdropped on conversations about themself ever heard anything nice.

It turned out, Jaskier was absolutely ecstatic at the idea of meeting Roach. Even more so at the fact that Cahir was also going to be there.

“Safety in numbers and all that,” he laughed down the phone. “It will be nice to have another non-horse person there. I won’t feel so judged.”

As if Geralt would judge Jaskier. Maybe laugh with him if he made a tit of himself by bowing grandiosly to greet Roach but that was kind of a given. Jaskier’s tomfoolery knew no bounds and it was one of the things Geralt loved about him.

“Eskel will be there too.” As if it wasn’t obvious that Cahir wouldn’t be there by himself. “And Lambert.” Something had been plaguing Geralt’s mind for a while and he wasn’t sure how to raise the question with Jaskier. “I doubt Lambert will be wearing a collar.”

Actually, he had no idea. Maybe Lambert only wore it while doing a scene. Or always wore it except to work or other socially awkward situations. It wasn’t like Geralt could just ask him. On the other end of the phone Jaskier went silent, only humming in contemplation.

“I mean-” Geralt stumbled over his words, “I don’t care. If it makes him happy, good.”

After a thoughtful little hum, Jaskier opened his mouth and Geralt wished he hadn’t said anything. “Geralt, are you jealous Lambert has a collar?”

“No.” The denial was straight out of Geralt’s mouth, not even allowing himself to think about it. He had a suspicion that Jaskier could hear through his lie.

“You know,” there was hesitation in Jaskier’s voice, “if you were interested, we could try it out. Pick out something together. Make a whole outing of it.”

The petulant “I’m not Lambert” was met with an “and I’m very glad for that” which ended all of Geralt’s potential arguments. All he was left with was a burning sense of embarrassment. Thankfully, Jaskier moved the conversation on after another beat, circling back to meeting Roach. He even sounded excited after their previously cancelled attempt.

“So I’ll come to yours on Sunday, kiss you silly then we can go meet Roach. I’ll bring apples.” It was unbearably cute, how easily Jaskier just accepted things and it made Geralt’s heart squeeze until it almost burst in his chest.

“Sure. See you then. Love you.” The call ended with Jaskier trilling and making kissing noises down the phone. Rather than annoy him, Geralt actually found it nice, a strange quirk of Jaskier’s which he himself had never really considered before. As someone who valued the peace of silence, Geralt had never made kissing noises at anyone in his life. Until Jaskier.

As Sunday rolled around, Geralt was quietly excited to see Jaskier again. He had been quite keen to introduce him to Roach, hoping the two most important people in his life would get along. Or rather person and horse. Geralt had to remind himself he shouldn’t refer to Roach as anything more than an animal around others. As soon as Jaskier pulled up in his tiny car, Geralt was stepping out the front door to greet him.

“What are you wearing?” The words were out as soon as Jaskier emerged from his car.

Looking down, Jaskier shrugged. “Usually, those words are whispered down the phone at me late at night by my beloved boyfriend as we indulge in some wonderful phone sex.” He wasn’t wrong, that was generally something Geralt liked to ask, wanting to get an image of Jaskier in his mind. “But to answer your question, I thought Roach might like me more if I wore something horse themed to show I like her.”

Because obviously Roach was going to take a shine to Jaskier for the sole reason he wore a t-shirt with horseshoes printed on it. It would have nothing to do with him offering her an apple and a gentle, calm hand.

“You’re ridiculous.” It was only declared after a soft greeting kiss. “It’s a good thing I love you.”

Thankfully, the weather was kind to them, bright and warm but not too hot. It was Geralt’s favourite kind of day. They got into the car, having agreed it would be better to take Geralt’s. He pushed the visor down to reveal four stickers, each a little different.

“Nice collection.” Of course Jaskier would notice and Geralt hoped that, aside from the comment, the topic could be left. No such luck. “Where did they come from?”

“A friend. Get stickers for help.” Technically not a lie. Well, the friend bit was but Geralt could safely say he told Renfri more than anyone else. And friends shared their thoughts and feelings, so maybe she could be very loosely defined as one. And Jaskier didn’t need to know that Geralt got the stickers not for helping but for allowing Renfri to help him.

“That is so sweet!” Jaskier seemed utterly charmed. “I might steal that idea. I think I have a few clients who would love it.”

Silently, Geralt stared ahead and tried to think of anything but the idea of Jaskier handing stickers out to clients he worked with. Maybe A&E ought to watch and learn, though Geralt suspected the children’s ward already did that. For patients, not the employees. Which, on second thought was a crying shame. He suspected Eskel would get a kick out of collecting stickers for turning up at work and doing a good job. Or not such a good job.

After the first successful session with Renfri, he had hit a bit of a stumbling block. The second session was a little awkward and stilted, Geralt not quite sure what more there was to say. By the third session things had got utterly tits up.

The chair had been unusually uncomfortable right from the start of the session. It wasn’t something that usually bothered Geralt but, so attuned to everything wrong in himself nad his surroundings, he was helpless to do anything but notice.

“How has your week been?” Renfri asked, her voice as was as ever.

“Fine.” Whether it was the truth or not didn’t matter, Geralt didn’t think talking about his week was going to do anything in terms of trying to better himself.

“Good.” Undeterred, Renfri had smiled and pushed on. “Did you manage to write a list of things you like about yourself? I know you were a bit sceptical about it last week.”

“No.”

Monosyllabic, Geralt couldn’t bring himself to say more and the longer it went on, the worse he felt. The words were there, clamouring in his throat but he’d spent the last two sessions talking about himself, Renfri was bound to be sick and tired of him.

“That’s okay. Maybe you want to talk about what you found difficult about the task?”

Geralt had tipped his head down and looked away like a sulking idiot, unwilling to say. Because it sounded pathetic to tell Renfri that he didn’t like a lot about himself. He liked that he was good at his job but saying that felt like bragging. If he’d had awards or exceptional qualifications, he’d have something to back up his claim at being good but just telling someone and expecting to be believed was a stretch of the imagination. Silence had seemed like the better option.

At the end of the hour, he was still given a sticker. “Because you came and tried. You didn’t give up, you didn’t storm out.” Until Renfri had said that, Geralt hadn’t even realised those were options. “For next week, do you think you could ask someone for something you need?” So, as undeserving as he felt, he still accepted the sticker and put it on his visor, vowing to do better the following week. It wasn’t easy but he managed to talk a little more.

“-which is why I think sunflowers ought to be over-watered and left to rot.”

Geralt tuned back into the conversation Jaskier had obviously been having with himself and he wished he had listened. While he had nothing against sunflowers, if Jaskier thought they weren’t deserving of being valued then they weren’t, his boyfriend was usually right about these things.

“I’ll get my extra large watering can,” he promised, hoping it would be enough.

Seemingly it was because Jaskier beamed. “See, this is why I adore you. Backing me up and ready to fight my cause even if it isn’t a popular opinion. I’m sorry but those stems, they shouldn’t exist. Like an erect caterpillar!”

At least Geralt now had a bit of context and, even without being influenced by Jaskier’s opinion, he had to agree. Sunflower stems were quite vile to touch.

They pulled up by the stables, Eskel’s car already there. The stable’s cat was stretched out across the bonnet, enjoying the sunshine. It opened one lazy eye to stare at them before curling up to snooze some more.

“You made it!” Lambert looked far too happy, perched on the fence of the ring and eating an apple. There wasn’t a collar in sight. In a way, Geralt was really rather relieved. “I think Cahir needs a friendly face.”

“Then he’s not after mine,” Geralt shot back with a small smile. Behind Lambert, he could see Eskel patiently leading Scorpion around. On the horse’s back Cahir looked rigid and half afraid for his life. Geralt nodded towards them, “Not quite love at first sight?” 

Snorting, Lambert shook his head, “Not in the slightest. Can’t blame him though. Closest cityboy ever got to a horse was knowing someone who was into pony play.”

Shaking his head, Geralt slung an arm around Jaskier’s waist. “You’ll be fine, don’t worry.” Tipping his head towards the stables, he started walking them towards it. “Roach is very easy to love.”

At least, Geralt thought so. The first time they met and he’d tried to look at her hoof, she bit him on the bum as he was bending over. Shocked and reacting on instinct, he bit back, getting a mouthful of fur coating his tongue for his efforts. She never tried to nip him again.

Leading Jaskier to the familiar stall, Geralt was greeted by Roach’s head swinging out to bump into his chest.   
  
“Now, now,” he chastised without actually meaning it, stroking over her neck as she mouthed at the collar of his shirt. “Behave for me and say hello nicely.”

He watched as Jaskier held up a whole apple just like he had shown him to, fingers flat and apple balanced in his palm. A cautious, disdainful sniff later, Roach turned her head away in offence.

“Here.” Geralt took the apple, positioned it his hands and pressed down, pulling until there was a satisfying crack. It split in half and he presented one to Jaskier and bit into the other, pulling a chunk out which he passed to Roach. “Lasts longer like this. And easier for her too.”

He could see Jaskier’s eyes light up as he regarded his own half. As Geralt munched on his half of the apple mindlessly, Jaskier took a bite, put it in his palm and offered it up to Roach who inspected it, plucked the apple up and crunched it. However, she turned back to Geralt and ignored Jaskier, obviously after his half more than Jaskier’s offering.

“Do I give her a different one?” Jaskier asked, reaching for his bag. Really, Geralt should have known he would come not just prepared but go overboard in his efforts to win Roach over. Secretly, Geralt was really touched his boyfriend would go to such extremes to befriend his horse.

Deciding that Roach had had enough time to be a snobby princess, Geralt stepped into the stall and started getting Roach ready for a ride. The familiarity of the actions soothed him, along with Jaskier’s chatter though that was directed at Roach than himself, which was absolutely fine. Not that anybody would know but Geralt talked to Roach on their rides, telling her everything. She had been particularly docile when he mentioned Renfri so Geralt liked to think she approved of her.

All tacked up and ready to go, Geralt led Roach out of her stall and towards the yard, Jaskier on his other side to Roach. Outside, they watched as Eskel just about caught Cahir as he tried to dismount. There was a lot of laughter, Lambert sidling over with a huge grin and throwing his arms around Cahir. Obviously he had mentioned their audience because Cahir looked up, flushed and sent the least convincing thumbs up to Jaskier. It had his boyfriends laughing and Lambert led him away while Eskel led Scorpion out to a paddock, fussing over him.

“It won’t be that bad,” Geralt promised. He knew Roach, she could be gentle if she was in the mood. Leading her up to a mounting block, Geralt talked Jaskier through a few basics before helping him get up. It was always fascinating to watch new riders, how they tried to settle and find a comfortable position on horseback.

“She’s a lot bigger like this,” Jaskier admitted, clutching the saddle.

“You didn’t say that when you rode me,” Geralt grumbled, hiding a grin as he led them. However, he didn’t miss the bright laugh followed by a “whoops” as Jaskier forgot to hold on and lurched.

After two laps, Jaskier did seem to relax a little, even going as far as humming and singing under his breath. It wasn’t going to be a showstopper or a breakthrough song, mostly consisting of “I’m sitting on a horse. She’s a big big horse. But so very pretty. Like her dad.”

All Geralt could think of was the fact that he was so very in love with Jaskier and his ridiculous ways. Once he had read that all quirks that are deemed interesting and cute at the start of a relationship were the ones that would drive the partner mad in the end. Very stubbornly, Geralt decided that theory was utter bullshit and time would prove him right.

Another couple of laps and Geralt could imagine Jaskier’s legs were beginning to feel a little strained so he stopped by the block. There was a small amount of pride in Geralt when Jaskier hopped off by himself, a little more graceful than Cahir had been. Not that it was a competition, but ... his boyfriend was better. 

Getting back to the stall, Geralt set about settling Roach, brushing her down while Jaskier watched. After a few minutes, the brush was offered up to Jaskier who hesitantly stepped towards Roach, free hand stroking down her flank.

“Like this,” Geralt murmured and stepped behind Jaskier, chest flush against his back. Taking the hand with the brush, Geralt began to gently guide them through the motions until he was satisfied Jaskier got the hang of it. However, he didn’t step back, opting to wrap and arm around Jaskier’s waist instead.

“There’s only so much horse I can reach like this.” Jaskier’s observation fell on deaf ears.

From outside, they suddenly heard Lambert’s outraged growls. “I’m not doing that, I’m not a mucking fuppet.”

“A mucking fuppet?” Cahir’s voice curled with laughter.

“Fucking muppet doing the mucking.” It sounded like Eskel was back with his boyfriends.

In front of Geralt, Jaskier was chuckling, whole body shaking. “You think that’s funny, do you?” Kissing Jaskier’s neck, Geralt pulled him until his back was against the wall and Jaskier spun around. Suddenly, Geralt understood why he had caught Lambert and Eskel so dishevelled so many times in the stables. However, all thoughts about his friends flew from his mind as Jaskier slotted their lips together. It turned out, shoving his tongue down his boyfriend’s throat in a stall was really quite fun.

Everything was going perfectly, Geralt’s hand was on the back of Jaskier’s neck and holding him in place when the soft moans of pleasure turned to a little more worried and abrupt.

“Uh, Geralt.” Jaskier’s voice was a little squeaky and more of his weight pressed down. The problem was more than easy to identify, Roach had decided she was going to join in by leaning against Jaskier. Unfortunately, Geralt started laughing while Jaskier was a little red in the face, looking torn between outrage and panic.

“Roach-” Geralt reached around Jaskier to pat whatever part of his horse he could find, “fuck off. Get your own boyfriend. He’s mine.”

It took a few pats but finally Roach moved away and Geralt led them out just in time to overhear Cahir.

“That’s a massive dick.” A look was exchanged between them, not quite sure who Cahir was referring to. “Wait! Why is his dick out?” Hopefully this wasn’t about Lambert. A telling splash sounded and Geralt bit back on a snort. “Eskel! Your horse tried to piss on my shoes!”

The next moment Cahir was backing out of a stall, followed by Lambert who was holding onto him to stay upright while laughing. At a much more leisurely pace, Eskel walked out and closed the stall door behind himself. Watching them, Geralt remembered something Renfri had said, told him it was homework of sorts. On the surface of it, it was easy enough, just asking for something he wouldn’t usually ask for. It could be a drink of water when he was sitting on the sofa or it could be something more.

Turning to Jaskier, Geralt knew what he needed to say. The words were right there, on the tip of his tongue. This was him, asking for something that he knew Jaskier had already okayed it before so it might even be technically cheating a little. However, they were words he hadn’t really uttered before and thinking about Renfri’s encouragement wasn’t exactly helping, this probably wasn’t what she’d had in mind.

“I’d like a collar.”

He’d said it quietly, only Jaskier could have possibly heard it. For a moment, Geralt doubted he actually had been heard but then, Jaskier turned to him slowly, giving him a once over.

“Okay. I know a shop. We can stop on the way home.”

That had been far too easy and Geralt stared back at Jaskier, jaw a little slack. He had thought he would have slightly longer before ending up with a collar.

“Sure.”

Thankfully, it was all cut short by an explosion of laughter from the three ahead of them and Eskel beckoning them closer.

“We’re going to grab food. Cahir knows this dainty little diner that’s meant to serve pie that you’ll sell your family for.”

“Yeah, so we’re off to sell Lambert for pie,” Cahir chipped in, only to get playfully shoved. Geralt watched as he simply hopped onto Lambert’s back and clung on like a limpet.

Geralt rolled his eyes. "For him? You'd only get a pie without filling."

Eskel cleared his throat and started again. “What I was trying to ask was, do you want to come with?”

Jaskier said “we already have plans” at the same time as Geralt said “sure” which led to a moment of awkward staring. While Geralt knew they’d said they’d stop off at the shop for the thing on the way home, that didn’t mean they had to miss out on a spontaneous invite.

“I mean,” Jaskier cleared his throat. “I have an errand to run so it depends on locations.”

“Don’t be bossy.” Lambert grinned, even more so when Jaskier gritted out a “not bossy” which didn’t sound like petulant bickering. However, Lambert seemed to have missed that. “Alright, bossypants.”

Geralt watched with veiled curiosity as Cahir stepped in, a hand on Lambert’s elbow. “Not bossy.” There was a weight to his words and it had Lambert backing off with a glance at Jaskier. The awkward silence that followed didn’t last long, because Jaskier never seemed like the kind to allow for such a thing to last.

“Drop me the address of the diner and we’ll work it into our route. We may just be a little late, the errand should only take half an hour at most.”

Eskel nodded. “Get going then, we’ll finish up here. I know what to do with Roach.”

That settled it and Jaskier followed Geralt to the car, looking at his phone. Getting in, Geralt watched his boyfriend who glanced up from his phone then back down again and up when he realised Geralt was still staring.

“What?”

“I don’t know where we’re going.” A light, nervous laugh left Jaskier at that and he said “silly me” before giving directions. According to his phone, the shop wasn’t too far from the diner and, deep down, Geralt suspected that if they’d gone to the shop after pie, they would have had the most awkward encounter with the other three again.

The shop was one of those chains that mostly operated out of town, roadside shops. Quality goods, out of the sight of those easily offended by more than sex under the covers with the lights off. Walking in, Geralt looked around, eyes zeroing in on the far wall with all the collars. He made a beeline for it, they were on a schedule after all.

Looking at the display, Geralt was quite surprised by the choices. He automatically discarded anything that had attached cuffs or clamps, any lurid colours and anything that looked like it had sharp edges. Which left a handful of options really.

“Have you ever worn a collar before?” Jaskier asked.

“No.”

They stared at the wall of collars for a little longer before Jaskier drifted towards a red one, lifting it up and glancing questioningly at Geralt who shook his head. “Black.”

One collar in particular had Geralt’s attention, it was thicker than most, a chunky leather with a couple of large metal d-rings on it. He looked at it as he listened to Jaskier start talking.

“For a first collar, I’d suggest something lighter, slimmer.” Another collar got picked up, black and narrow, it looked delicate in his hands. “Doesn’t have to be expensive either, just something to test the waters with.”

It all made sense but Geralt was a large man, he would have looked ridiculous with something so dainty around his throat. He’d asked for this, he wanted it so surely it was okay to get something a little more durable and long term. Digging his heels in, Geralt looked to the collar he’d spotted even as he took the one Jaskier offered up. It was the same material but no metal rings or the solid thickness to it. Less than subtly, Geralt looked over to the other collar.

There was no frustrated sigh from Jaskier at the fact his advice was being ignored. In fact, Geralt thought he looked a little amused.

“This one, huh?” Geralt nodded and Jaskier flipped the price tag. “It is three times the price of the other one, you know that, right?”

It wasn’t like Geralt was hardup for money, he hadn’t been splurging on anything of late, he could afford the collar.

“I know.”

“Okay.” Jaskier nodded and pushed the collar into Geralt’s hands. “Check it over, make sure you’re happy with it. But I have one request.”

Geralt cocked his head to show he was listening, trying to second guess what Jaskier was going to ask. It was an expensive collar so maybe he wanted to make sure they got proper use out of it. Or maybe rules about when Geralt could and couldn’t wear it, or do while wearing it.

“If you don’t like it, you don’t push yourself to wear it, okay? It’s okay to try it and realise it’s not for you. And just because it was pricey doesn’t mean you have to keep using it.”

That was not at all what Geralt had expected. He hummed, not quite understanding Jaskier’s logic. Because this was something Geralt was asking for, so surely if he wanted it, it was fine.

“But I want it?”

He didn’t understand why Jaskier shook his head and held his hands up in defeat.

“I’m not arguing about that. I’m merely asking you to look after yourself. Now, are you certain that’s the collar you want?”

Determined, Geralt nodded. He was a little surprised when it was pulled from his lax fingers and Jaskier darted off towards the tills, only turning to stick his tongue out at Geralt who was too slow to react. That was how he ended up with Jaskier buying him his collar and handing him the bag. There was nothing for it, Geralt was going to have to buy the pies at the diner and think of ways to pay Jaskier back. It went without saying that he was a little distracted in the diner, mind slipping back to the collar in the car, waiting innocently for when they would have a chance to try it out. All in all, Geralt was quietly excited for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A surprisingly kink free chapter but they do buy a collar which will appear in a later chapter.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kink warnings in the end notes.

There were three more stickers in Geralt’s car before he got the chance to use the collar. It had sat in its bag under his bed for weeks. At times he would get it out, stare at it, run his fingers over the leather, and trace the metal rings on it but he never put it on. That was something he wanted to savour and experience with Jaskier for the first time. If only Jaskier hadn’t been so careful about planning. For some reason he really had a bee in his bonnet about it.

“At first I really think you ought to just wear it without us doing much,” he’d said as they ate. “My preference would be to have you wear it and kneel by my feet.”

“And my preference would be to just get on with it.” Geralt moodily stabbed at the last meatball on his plate. “I asked for this, it will be fine.”

It went on and on like that but finally they reached a compromise. No sex, Jaskier didn’t want to lose sight of Geralt for a single second while they tried a collar for the first couple of times. However, he conceded that it might be a bit more of success if Geralt actually felt good while wearing the collar. As he agreed to that, for some reason Geralt felt like the most manipulative bastard ever.

When he mentioned it to Renfri, she hummed and looked at him for a moment.

“Did you get exactly what you wanted?”

“No.”

“Did Jaskier get exactly what he wanted?” She pressed on and Geralt shook his head. “Then did you both compromise and meet halfway?”

Somehow, that still didn’t make Geralt feel any better but he nodded anyway. As far as he was concerned, if he wasn’t getting what he wanted then Jaskier should at least, that way one of them would fully enjoy the experience. This way, both of them would be left not quite pleased. Not that Renfri seemed fooled by his wordless agreement but she graciously let him have his little sulk without comment.

Or rather, she didn’t pick him up on it then and there but she most certainly returned to the topic of the collar and how Geralt felt about it.

“Why do you want to know so much about it?” Geralt had growled, frustrated when they’d circled back to it once more.

“Because I want to understand what it means to you.” Renfri shrugged and smiled into her glass of water - it was something she always had during sessions for them both. “You don’t have to tell me, but just think about why you want the collar and what it brings to your relationship.”

Which was a direct contrast to what Jaskier had been telling him. That there didn’t have to be meaning behind everything they tried. Sometimes a collar was just a collar and it meant nothing more than a sexual thrill. Geralt had no idea who to believe anymore, all he knew was he wanted to wear a collar and get off. They had always looked so alluring and sexy in the porn he’d watched. All he knew was that, to him, a collar meant belonging. It meant that Jaskier was claiming him as his in a visible way and that was why Geralt hadn’t even tried the collar on by himself. That was Jaskier’s to put on him when he wanted Geralt and not something Geralt would want to do for himself.

Finally, the day they had planned to try out the collar arrived. Geralt drove to Jaskier’s, agreeing that using his playroom was probably the wisest. As far as scenes went it was so very simple. The collar would go on, Geralt would kneel patiently next to Jaskier until they were both settled then Jaskier would, in the crudest terms possible, milk him dry. It wasn’t Geralt’s idea of a fulfilling scene but Jaskier had been insistent that if Geralt wanted to launch straight into getting off with a collar, it wasn’t going to be a setting where Jaskier could lose his focus for even a minute.

“Hello handsome,” Jaskier greeted him as Geralt had let himself in. The key he had been handed the last time they met was not done with any kind of pomp. Merely, Jaskier had handed it to him.

“I want you to feel welcome here. Even if it’s at 2am after a difficult shift, you can come here, come home.”

Geralt had blinked down at the key, not quite comprehending it. However, keys were meant to go on keyrings so he added it to his bunch with a soft “thanks”. The small, warm smile he got at the action made him think there was more to it. Only the following morning as he left did it all sink in. Jaskier had offered up his place as a home. The revelation was large enough that Geralt pulled over and stared at his steering wheel for a couple of minutes, trying to reorient the world around this fact.

Somehow, reciprocation of the act felt cheap so Geralt held off on it, half tempted to put a key through Jaskier’s letterbox and hope that it was understood for what it was meant to be. Instead, the key burned heavily in his pocket, heavier than the bag with the collar in it.

“You smell nice today.”

Thankfully, Jaskier beamed at the strange greeting, all too used to Geralt by now. “No need to be nervous, come on, have a drink and a snack before we get started.”

There was something settling about the routine, Jaskier never explicitly enforced it but, before most scenes they did, there was always a glass of water and some form of fruit on offer. The familiarity of the habits helped ease Geralt a little.

“Here.” He put the key onto the kitchen counter. “For you.”

“Oh Geralt!” Jaskier was beaming wide and flung himself at Geralt, clinging on in a tight hug. “You’re too precious. Thank you.”

Really, Geralt didn’t know why he expected anything other than boundless enthusiasm from Jaskier. As with so much else with Jaskier, it was easier than he’d thought it would be. Logically, Geralt knew it would be but his heart and brain were still intent on waging a futile war.

“Now I can surprise you with a home cooked meal and a cuddle when you get home from work late.” Jaskier covered his mouth, eyes wide as he said it. “So much for the surprise.”

Utterly charmed, Geralt looped an arm through Jaskier’s. “Come on, let’s fuck.” And they said romance was dead.

The room was already set up, and knowing what was coming and why they were there gave Geralt the boost to strip without hesitation. The bag he’d brought the collar it was left on the couch, his clothes thrown haphazardly next to them.

“So messy,” Jaskier tutted as he stepped around Geralt, giving him a once over. “If I wasn’t to set on our plans, I might have thought about making you take care of your things a bit better.”

The gentle reprimand had Geralt folding his underwear and placing it more carefully on the couch, feeling a little chastised.

“Much better. Kneel for me, darling,” Jaskier cooed.

It was so easy to kneel now, knowing that Jaskier enjoyed the act as much as anything else they did. Geralt settled on the pillow already set out for him and stared up at Jaskier. For a moment they just looked at each other, open and adoring. However, that wasn’t the plan for the rest of their scene and Jaskier looked away.

“Let’s see how pretty you look in your selection.” The collar was pulled out, unbuckled and Geralt swallowed hard. He watched, heart thumping hard in his chest as the leather was offered up to his neck and Geralt tipped his chin up, baring himself to his dominant. Careful hands fastened the buckle and slipped a finger under the collar to check fit. “Not too tight?”

Wordless, Geralt shook his head. He wanted this, had been waiting for it for so long. Jaskier’s claim around his neck was everything he’d been thinking about of late. The leather wasn’t tight at all but it still felt restrictive and not in a nice way. Which was ridiculous, Geralt had wanted it so it was going to be fine. Surely it would feel better and it was only the newness of the situation Geralt was internally rebelling against, determined that he would push through the unpleasantness and get to the part where he liked it. He had wanted the collar, hell, he’d even opened his mouth to ask for it so it had to feel nice. Eventually.

“Beautiful.” Jaskier’s fingers trailed over the line where leather met skin and he sat back to look his fill. Patiently, Geralt waited, hands splayed on his thighs but watching Jaskier back, needing to see whether he really did please him.

A hand tangled in Geralt’s hair and tugged gently, guiding him to rest against Jaskier’s thigh. It was usually so nice, being able to simply exist with no demands being made of him. Geralt wished he could relax, if only the collar would sit more comfortably against his throat. Geralt forced his muscles to go lax and turned his focus away from the discomfort. He had asked for it, overruled Jaskier’s suggestions, certain that it was something he would enjoy. It was only a matter of time and he would get used to it, Geralt had tolerated a lot worse for lesser people before.

Time lost its meaning and Jaskier stroked through Geralt’s hair to draw his attention.

“If you’re ready and want to continue, move to your hands and knees for me.”

It was an out, Geralt knew that. Jaskier had told him that when they’d talked through the scene, giving Geralt points where he could stop without having to use his safe word. Which, quite frankly, he still didn’t really want to use, didn’t want to let Jaskier down. Though, if Geralt didn’t move, that was fine but they wouldn’t go beyond kneeling and Jaskier would gently start talking to him until he was ready to get the collar off. Technically it wouldn’t be using a safe word if he stayed. However, the choice was still there and his. Truthfully, Geralt would have happily ripped the collar off then and there, no sweet words or anything like that needed. But the collar had been expensive, one short use didn’t determine anything, he had to push on to see what it was really like. They deserved this, a chance to experience the collar in full. He wanted to see whether there was anything more than discomfort and a vague sense of disappointment to the collar. Choice made, pulling away from Jaskier’s thigh, Geralt arranged himself on his hands and knees.

There was lube already out, it had been warming up under Jaskier’s other thigh so it was a matter of Jaskier taking his time, slipping off the sofa and getting comfortable next to Geralt. As always, Jaskier took his sweet time, running a reverent palm over his back and down the curve of his hip, using the motion to urge his thighs further apart.

“Perfect. You’re picture perfect.” There was the snick of the lube being opened and, not a few seconds later, a finger at Geralt’s hole. Keen to forget about the heavy weight against his throat, Geralt rocked back, needing the distraction of being breached. “So eager,” Jaskier laughed but allowed Geralt’s cheeky attempt to hurry things along.

The plan wasn’t to rush into an orgasm or anything like that, Geralt knew that. He was still impatient and growled a little when it felt like Jaskier was sightseeing in his arse rather than following their agreement to rub his prostate until he was coming dry.

“You lost? Want a tour?” he grumbled, trying to rock his hips back to help. A hand gripped his hip and stilled Geralt.

“Just enjoying the scenery,” Jaskier shot back and finally, at long last, he pressed down exactly where Geralt wanted him.

It was the kind of pleasure that drove everything from Geralt’s mind in short, sharp bursts. Even the collar’s lax grip seemed less demanding when he could focus on something better. His back arched at the firm press, muscles locked for a moment before Jaskier eased off. It pulled a grunt from Geralt and he tried to remember just which way was up. Almost as if in apology for such a direct assault, Jaskier rubbed around the bundle of nerves, titillating without ever carrying through with the most delicious of threats.

Thankfully, Jaskier didn’t seem to want to tease too much, eventually pressing in with a second finger before truly delivering on his promise. Starting off slow, Geralt grumbled a little but a sharp “don’t you move” had him locking his limbs into place, head hanging down. It meant he got the perfect view of his cock as it slowly started dripping under Jaskier’s ministrations. Closing his eyes, Geralt focused on the feelings, the way fingers worked him open, the stretch of his muscles, the weight of the collar. If that was the price to pay for the mounting pleasure, Geralt could deal with it. It wasn’t all that bad, he could get used to it. He really could. A simple matter of directing his attention away from the collar, from the disappointment. It was something he’d done before, ignoring the bad in favour of the end goal.

Pleasure rippled through Geralt in growing waves. It wasn’t like when he was jerking off or having his cock sucked or even like being fucked. Jaskier seemed to know exactly how to push him towards a crest that never quite tipped over, forever climbing instead. Having Jaskier do it meant that it was unrelenting. There was no stopping, no breaks to catch his breath, the presence of the collar around his neck was hidden under the overwhelming feelings too. Within three minutes Geralt was coated in sweat, his dick steadily dripping and Jaskier twisted his fingers in him.

Despite all the pleasure, it just wasn’t quite enough and Geralt’s muscles tensed in anticipation of a climax that was just beyond his reach.

“Jaskier,” he ended up saying with a groan. “Please.”

He had no idea what he was actually asking for other than that he needed more. More of the maddeningly slow pleasure that licked up his spine. Instead, Jaskier pulled his fingers free with a murmur of “it’s okay handsome, I’ve got you”. Before Geralt could do something silly like beg, the fingers were back, more slick than before and they pressed into his body easily.

“Thank you,” Geralt sighed, eyes fixed on the sight of his cock. It was properly leaking, Jaskier’s fingers wringing it dry exactly as he had promised.

The rolling pleasure started to burn. Without being touched, Geralt’s cock had softened after the initial excitement but each time Jaskier touched him or asked how he was doing, he always urged him to continue. Though the collar was still stiff and uncomfortable around Geralt’s neck, it kept him grounded, just enough of a niggle to stop him from fully floating off away as Jaskier liked to have him do. Which was why he could only watch his dick and think that the best words to describe it were ‘lazily drooling’.

“Still with me love?” Jaskier paused for a moment, fingers just shy of Geralt’s prostate.

“Yeah,” Geralt gritted out, arms shaking a little. “Burns.”

“My poor love.” A hand rubbed over Geralt’s broad, sweat slick back. “Means you’re almost there. Shall I let you come?”

“Please.” He almost shouted as Jaskier mercilessly kept pressure on his prostate with a few short rubs. Geralt’s back curved as he tried to curl in on himself, whole body alight as he tried to come but, other than a small, pathetic dribble from the tip of his dick, nothing more happened.

Hands guided him to his side as he panted, limbs twitching as he tried to make out just which way up the world was. His hand clutched at the collar.

“Let’s get this off you.” The words were soft and Geralt tugged at the leather as soon as it was loosened, freeing his neck.

Nothing more was said for a precious few minutes, Jaskier simply stroked over Geralt’s shoulder, letting him catch his breath. Eventually, Geralt sat up with a groan, looking at the veritable puddle he and Jaskier had managed to create.

“You alright there?” Geralt nodded at the question, blowing his cheeks out in a puff. “How did you find the collar?”

Even as Jaskier spoke, he pulled a water bottle from under the couch and passed it to Geralt who drank greedily rather than reply. When it became evident he wasn’t going to actually answer, Jaskier pressed a little harder.

“You seemed pretty keen to get it off at the end.”

The statement was left to hang in the air between them, inviting Geralt to say something, anything. But how could Geralt say that he didn’t like it? That he’d let Jaskier waste so much money on it when he’d been stubbornly insisting it was going to be fine.

“Did you like it?” He turned the question back on Jaskier who seemed to roll with it.

“Darling, I like making you feel good. But I need to know if this was something you liked, was wearing a collar everything you’d hoped it would be?”

The honest answer to that was a resounding ‘no’ but Geralt didn’t want to admit it. Not after all the fuss he had kicked up, made Jaskier compromise. Maybe he could avoid wearing it every single time they played, that way Jaskier would still reap the benefits of it. That was the kind of compromise Renfri had been talking about, right? However, as far as Geralt was concerned, porn could add something else to the list of lies it peddled. A collar didn’t make him feel special or owned. It added no extra enjoyment, if anything, it was an uncomfortable distraction.

A couple of fingers pressed under his chin and Geralt found himself being turned to look at Jaskier who looked over his face, searching for an answer to his question. Geralt couldn’t meet his eyes and pulled his chin away.

“Oh sweetheart.” Arms wrapped around Geralt and he was tugged against Jaskier, cradled against a broad chest.

It was so stupid. Geralt had enjoyed their play. The intensity of it, the way Jaskier had once again taken such good care of him. He shouldn’t be sat there, bottom lip clamped between his teeth to stop it from wobbling. Yet there he was. The big difference to anything in the past was that Jaskier was there, holding him through it which made him feel even more vulnerable and useless.

“I’m sorry,” he grit out. Sorry for pushing the matter, for overruling Jaskier’s suggestion, for not letting Jaskier know earlier that it wasn’t feeling right. But it had felt good and nothing like previous times where he knew he didn’t like it but stuck it out for the orgasm. Geralt had really wanted Jaskier to keep going. There was no denying that it would have been better without the collar.

Rather than Geralt be chastised, Jaskier merely rocked him gently until he wasn’t shivering.

“Now, we’re going to go take a warm shower-” Jaskier told him softly, “-then we’ll sit on the couch and have a chat. I’ll even make hot chocolate, okay?”

Oddly subdued, Geralt let himself be ushered into the shower and washed, all while Jaskier quietly talked to him. The words washed over Geralt, settling his soul while the water rinsed away the mess from his skin.

It was no surprise that Jaskier had already had the makings of a hot chocolate set out on the side.

“Got to be honest, I thought we’d have hot chocolate in bed late at night but it’s come in handy here now.” Jaskier passed a warm mug to Geralt and settled down. “Now, this feels like a slightly different kind of refusal to back down. What happened.”

Talking had never been Geralt’s strongpoint. He sighed and stared into his mug for a couple of long seconds. There was no avoiding it.

“It was expensive.” He rubbed tiredly at his face. “And I ignored your advice. And your fingers felt good.”

As he spoke, Jaskier nodded and inhaled sharply to talk. “Yes, well, if it had been important, I wouldn’t have been so easy to sway. I have been known to be a little-” he broke off there and sniffed in disdain, “-overbearing.”

“You mean bossy.” Geralt watched as Jaskier looked miserable for a moment at the word and remembered how Cahir hadn’t let Lambert call Jaskier bossy.

“That, yeah,” Jaskier agreed bitterly. “I am aware of it.”

“I like you being-” he didn’t want to use a word that upset Jaskier so much, “-in control.”

It earned him a small huff that was almost a laugh and Jaskier shook his head, eyes still fixed on his lap. “Not many like that aspect of me. They need more freedom, less planning. More spontaneity.” If the mugs hadn’t been in their hands, Geralt was sure Jaskier would have been gesticulating wildly with each sentence. “Trust me, I’m well aware how it’s a less than desirable trait of mine, being a control freak. Though Cahir helped me tamp it down, I was told how bad I can be before he came along.”

The hurt was deeper than Geralt had anticipated and he floundered. “I like it.”

Focusing on Jaskier’s feelings made Geralt’s worries ease. It felt less like he was a broken puppet desperately trying to glue himself together to impress the puppet master. Maybe they were all just a little broken and it was about finding someone who not only helped hold the pieces in place while the glue set but then also saw beauty and something worth keeping in the end result.

“It makes me feel safe. Knowing you’re in absolute control.” Geralt blew on his hot chocolate to cool it before taking a sip. “Knowing everything that’s to come helps ease the worries away. Makes me relax.”

A shoulder pressed into his and Jaskier kissed his cheek. “Thank you. But don’t think you’re escaping our talk about the collar.”

Geralt absolutely pouted at that and remained resolutely silent.

“Now, you said it was expensive and you felt guilty for ignoring my suggestion. And you liked some of what we did.” Hesitantly, Geralt nodded along. “So, and I’m going out on a limb here, you wanted to keep playing and didn’t know how to ask for a change to the plan?”

Geralt nodded.

“Okay. We’ll work on that. Maybe have a word that means back off but not stop.” Jaskier seemed so very invested in finding something that worked for them both, it was quite heartwarming. “As for the collar, what were you hoping it would do for you?”

That was almost exactly the same thing Renfri had asked him. Well, not quite but close enough. Only, this time it was Jaskier asking and Geralt had actually mulled over Renfri’s question so he sort of had an answer.

“Thought it would make me feel closer to you.” He’d wanted the declaration of ownership that collars in porn always seemed to signify. “That I’d be yours.”

Jaskier’s face went through a complicated series of expressions, softening and breaking at the same time. Carefully, he put his mug on the coffee table, ignoring how it sloshed out and made a milky ring under it. Next, he plucked Geralt’s mug from his hands and returned to pull Geralt into his lap.

“You are mine already,” he said, voice soft but firm. “I’m sorry if I hadn’t made you feel like that before.”

“You did.” Now Geralt felt so silly. “I just wanted a physical reminder.”

The words sank into silence but it wasn’t overbearing, awkward or oppressive. If anything, it was calming and tension seeped from Geralt’s muscles as Jaskier rested his head against his shoulder. 

“Give me a bit of time and we can figure something out. Something that you’re comfortable with.”

The promise had Geralt’s heart squeezing. Nobody had wanted to make such changes to accommodate his whims and needs before. Well, Renfri put up with a lot of his shit but he paid her for that. All in all, Geralt was quite convinced Jaskier was something special.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter there be collars and prostate milking ahoy.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So Geralt didn't like the collar. It took Jaskier a little while but he finally figured out what to get him instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you to hubblegleeflower for beta reading this chapter and holding my hand through it while I was basically having a massive brain fart. Without them, this would be a very very different (and not as tight) chapter. 
> 
> Kinks (or lack of) in the end note.

“I want to try something new,” Jaskier said over a brief lunch. He had packed sandwiches, little pots of yoghurt and fruit for them both, driven to the hospital car park for Geralt’s break. In theory, Geralt should have had an hour but the reality of the situation was that if he got 20 minutes, he was lucky. However, he was there, in the car wondering whether Jaskier’s visor felt so empty because it had no stickers on it. He had lost count of how many he had but each and every one was carefully added to his collection..

“You want to snort yoghurt?”

For a moment Jaskier stared at the side of Geralt’s head in stunned horror. The light smack to his arm was well deserved. “Oh you horrible troll! You know that’s not what I meant.” However, Jaskier did pull out his yoghurt and stared at it. “Though I guess I’ve never snorted yoghurt before. I’ve played around with inflation, just not with you.”

The declaration had Geralt’s face freezing as he processed the words and derived just what exactly Jaskier meant. He swallowed and looked down at his yoghurt.

“When faced with such a choice, I think I’d prefer not to snort a dairy snack.” He hoped it was enough for Jaskier to infer that he was interested in his suggestion but uncertain of how to voice that. Saying “yes please, I want to try inflation play with you” just didn’t sound right in his head. Even if he could see Renfri’s unimpressed expression if he tried to tell her that it wasn’t how he talked. She would probably try to find a way around it, a route he would feel comfortable saying exactly that but without those words. But some things just didn’t come naturally to Geralt and this was one of those things.

Thankfully, Jaskier seemed fluent enough in Geralt’s way of communication because he only grinned. “With such a ringing endorsement, how could I not be in a mad rush to get everything ready for tonight right away?”

A small smile made its way to Geralt’s lips. He knew Jaskier was joking and loved that he could appreciate it. If this had been Jaskier’s attitude when they met, well, Geralt would have walked out the club without kneeling for him. Now though, it was a familiarity that warmed Geralt, secure in the knowledge that Jaskier was playing and that wasn’t how he actually viewed the world.

“In all seriousness though, dinner, my place tomorrow?”

As if Geralt would ever refuse. He nodded, making a note to read up a bit on inflation play so the discussion would go easier. Half the night was spent on ‘research’. By which Geralt meant he had every intention of finding out more about inflation play so he could be better in formed. Alas, in reality, he got distracted and turned on by the videos and spent a happy night in post orgasmic bliss. The question of what and how could be left to Jaskier’s care, he seemed to know what he was doing. At least, that was what Geralt’s sluggish brain was suggesting, much more interested in sleep than worrying about the finer details.

By the time Geralt arrived at Jaskier’s, he had a few questions of his own that he was almost confident in asking. Maybe he’d just think them really hard and Jaskier would answer them anyway. Some days he did wonder whether his boyfriend was a psychic but no matter how many annoying songs Geralt sang in his head, he never seemed to be able to earworm Jaskier. But he did manage to drive himself up the wall with the dumb songs that consequently got stuck in his head.

Shoes and keys set to the side, Geralt called out a soft “hello”, knowing that Jaskier would hear him. Sure enough there was the sound of papers being shuffled around and set aside as Jaskier called back a greeting of his own.

“I was just putting my notes together for supervision.” Jaskier looked a treat. He was in soft, comfortable clothes that were never meant to be appealing, yet there was Geralt, sighing in appreciation as he tugged his boyfriend in for a hug. Even when plastered to his chest, Jaskier kept talking. “I didn’t much feel like cooking. Well, that’s a lie, I did but I didn’t want to make it look too special. Because it’s not like a proposal or anything.”

Blinking long and hard, Geralt shook his head because Jaskier was babbling. Something about it felt too nervous, too on edge. And the bit about proposals just threw him completely. Wrinkling his nose, Geralt looked down at Jaskier.

“I’ve done the reading. I am happy to try inflation play. I want you to fill me up.” Maybe he could use his words after all. Geralt had only needed about a day to weigh the words, feel them on the tip of his tongue before deciding they weren’t dangerous and could be uttered to someone he loved. All things considered, Renfri would have been proud.

Except Jaskier was pulling away with a small giggle. He looked up at Geralt and pressed a kiss to the tip of his nose before dancing away.

“Yes, well, I didn’t want to talk about that. Not today at least.”

His nervous blathering was making Geralt anxious, he had no idea what else Jaskier could have been wanting to talk about. Maybe he wasn’t pleased with something Geralt had done, perhaps mulled over the issue with the collar and decided that Geralt hadn’t tried hard enough after all. Renfri would tell him off for such thoughts and Geralt mentally stuck his tongue out at her. Maybe he should award himself a sticker for recognising a bad thought pattern - something Renfri had banged on about so much, almost right from the start. The only thing Geralt couldn’t remember was the answer to “what now?” He had realised that his thinking wasn’t Renfri approved but Geralt had no idea what to do with it now. Just knowing his thinking was flawed didn’t magically stop it. Before he could spiral into a pit of woe about being so flawed he couldn’t even correct his own thoughts, he chose to focus on his own anxiety. Geralt turned back to the issue of Jaskier acting strange.

“This. This is what I wanted to talk to you about.”

A box was pulled from a bag, slim and about the length of Geralt’s handspan. He took it and sat when Jaskier ushered him towards a chair, sitting down opposite him. The nervous energy from Jaskier was now mixed with barely contained excitement.

“Open it! Open it!” Jaskier was urging him, flapping his hands towards the box. For another long moment, Geralt stared at it before lifting it up and taking his time to flip it in his hand. It was a plain box, nothing remarkable about it yet Jaskier seemed about to fall out of his chair to open it for Geralt and show off the thing inside it. Not willing to be rushed and enjoying the suspense, Geralt set the box back down on the table.

“What is it?”

“If you’d open it already, you’d know!”

Temptation to keep teasing and sniff the box, then lick it was strong and Geralt eyed Jaskier as he brought it up to his face. It had the desired effect and Jaskier buried his hands in his hair with a soft scream. The whole situation was far too much fun, all the emotional tension from earlier had morphed from anxiety to something much more playful. The lick wasn’t even necessary but Geralt still did it, enjoying the strangled groan of desperation from Jaskier. 

The joke was on him. He finally opened the box and stared at the delicate chain, too short to be a necklace but too long for a bracelet. Geralt stared at it, not quite understanding.

He stared stupidly at the chain. “What is it?”

Immediately, Jaskier was talking again. “It’s an anklet. I thought you might be more comfortable with it than a collar.” He gestured to his throat at the mention of the collar. “Plus, this is something you can wear even to work. Because I think you wanted something that was more than just a collar but wasn’t sure what it could be. It’s not like you could wear a collar out and about but an anklet you can. It’s body safe and the metal is approved for hospital wear.”

In short, it was overwhelming in the best of ways. Geralt stared at the anklet without a word. 

Jaskier rushed to fill the silence. “Of course you don’t have to wear it if you don’t like it. Or even if you don’t want to.” Jaskier leaned back in his chair as he spoke. “It’s one you can customise too, if you want. Little charms. But I wasn’t sure whether you’d find them distracting so haven’t attached them.” His eyes strayed towards the bag on the table. “If you wanted though, I got a horse one for Roach, a wolf for you and a song bird for me. I can return any or all of them, it’s not an issue.”

“Don’t you dare.” Geralt found his voice, still not taking his eyes off the anklet. It was everything he could have hoped for - thoughtful, genuine, personal. “I want it all.”

A soft, happy “oh” left Jaskier and he tugged another box, a square one this time, from the bag and slid it over. Greedily, Geralt opened it up and stared at the three promised charms in there. Plus the fourth one, a heart wrapped in rope that Jaskier hadn’t mentioned. It didn’t need an explanation, Geralt understood it. With a soft hum he pushed both boxes towards Jaskier with a hopeful glance.

“Want me to put it together for you?”

“Please.” It was shy and a little giddy as Geralt tried to keep his emotions in check.

Deft hands pulled the anklet from its box and Jaskier threaded the charms on gently; Roach went on first, followed by Geralt, then the heart and finally Jaskier. It all made a simple, beautiful sense and Geralt watched with eager glee.

“Would you-” he cut the question off with a soft huff of embarrassment. Thankfully, Jaskier seemed to understand and he stood, anklet artfully draped over his fingers. He rounded the table and, without any preamble, dropped to his knees by Geralt’s feet. Looking down at him, Geralt’s breath caught in his throat and, for a moment, he understood the appeal of submission from a dominant’s perspective.

“May I?” Jaskier asked and Geralt nodded, not quite certain what he was meant to do. The answer of ‘nothing’ became quite evident as Jaskier reverently reached for his left foot and pulled it into his lap. His trouser leg was carefully pushed up and sock pulled down just over his heel so Geralt’s toes were still hidden. Gentle hands brushed over the knob of Geralt’s ankle. The cool of the metal was a welcome contrast to the warm brush of fingers and Geralt watched, entranced at how Jaskier secured the clasp and admired the anklet.

After a beat of silence Jaskier cleared his throat. “Feel okay?”

Geralt’s throat was dry and he couldn’t even hum. Instead, he nodded, eyes on the anklet. It was a comforting weight, didn’t restrict his movement, and the charms bounced pleasantly against his skin. Jaskier had picked them all to have meaning. The Roach charm caught the light as he turned his foot.

“Can I wear it during scenes?”

His question drew a startled little laugh and Jaskier let go of his foot, pushing to stand. Leaning over Geralt, he pressed a kiss to his nose before replying, “Of course. You can wear it anywhere, anytime. It’s yours.”

Geralte was going to wear it forever. He smiled up at Jaskier and pulled him into his lap.

“Are we going to talk inflation and then do it?” Because Jaskier was always such a stickler for rules and talking about it. Even if Geralt was more than content to just get on with it. He felt that maybe they could make a bit of an exception for a change, especially when Jaskier had treated him so well, it was about time his boyfriend got a bit of a treat too.

Happy in Geralt’s lap, Jaskier shook his head. “Not today. I want you to have the anklet today and nothing more. But we can still make love if you’d like.”

Geralt very much did like and he stood with a grunt, kicking his floppy, half on sock off before marching them to the bedroom, Jaskier giggling in his arms. He kept the anklet on and loved the way the charms shifted with each stride, knocking lightly against his skin.

Whenever they had sex outside of a scene, there were no hard and fast rules. Geralt didn’t submit in the same way, feeling more able to wrest a bit of control which was actually freely given. He rolled Jaskier onto his back, peppering kisses down his chest while fingers curled into his hair. It wasn’t quite what Geralt had wanted though. While he could feel the anklet as he moved, it wasn’t quite what he wanted.

“Fuck me?” Geralt murmured the words into the soft skin of Jaskier’s belly, knowing it was heard anyway. It was how he ended up on his back, legs around Jaskier’s shoulders and almost folded in half. The position did give Geralt perfect view of Jaskier, the way his skin flushed from cheeks down to his neck and chest. However, his gaze was spent more on his own ankle watching the charms jostle with each thrust. Even better was Jaskier noticing where his attention was and pressing kisses against metal and skin. While it wasn’t the most earth shattering of climaxes, Geralt still felt more than content as they cleaned up and then settled down for the night.

They had plans to talk about inflation a couple of days later. Geralt was going to have a session with Renfri then go over to Jaskier’s. He hadn’t struggled with therapy in a little while, found it almost comforting. So it was sod’s law that the one time he expected things to go smoothly, Renfri really hit a nerve. The session had started off like usual, a quick catchup on how that week had gone, Geralt shyly talking about the anklet but refusing to pull up his trouser leg to show it off. The anklet was his and Jaskier’s alone, nobody else had the privilege of seeing it.

“I’m glad you have something that is yours and Jaskier’s only.” Renfri smiled. “Which actually has me wondering what has you so happily settled with Jaskier.”

“What’s that meant to mean?” Geralt didn’t like the tone of that or the implications. His own voice came out much more sullen and petulant than he’d intended.

If Renfri sensed his sudden unease, it didn’t show as she ploughed on, “I get the impression that you hold the world at a distance. Very few people have been allowed to get close with your permission.”

Geralt’s face scrunched up as he listened, not sure where the conversation was going or even if he liked this new line of enquiry.

“Take Lambert and Eskel for example. You get on well with them but only since the incident at the club have you actually felt closer to them.” That much was true. It was one of the few positive things that had come from the less than ideal situation, Geralt could agree with that. “Then there’s Jaskier.The two of you pushed and pushed, even hit breaking point from what you’ve told me about the night with the cane. But rather than run, you let your defences down and went back. Why?”

A prickle of sweat broke out across Geralt’s back. He had stuck by Jaskier because he wanted to. It was Jaskier, of course he would go back to him.

“Because I love him.” It had to be enough of an explanation. Love was a good catch all reason.

“Yes but why?”

“Because he’s Jaskier.” Renfri continued to watch him silently, making Gearlt feel he had to fill the gap. “Because he-” Geralt made a hand gesture encompass all that being Jaskier entailed. The everything he was and had given. Words didn’t feel enough to summarise his boyfriend so Geralt didn’t even really try beyond a few more hums and grunts. Even as Renfri pressed him to use words, he didn’t have any. Crossing his arms over his chest, Geralt sat back in his chair and frowned at his shoes.

The session ended with Geralt clutching a sticker in a sweaty palm, slapping it onto his collections where he’d had to start overlapping stickers. He was angry and frustrated but he couldn’t say why. It was a small miracle he didn’t get road rage worse than ever before as he drove to Jaskier’s. That wouldn’t have been fair on the other drivers, Geralt was angry at himself more than anything else but he wasn’t quite sure why.

His key clanked in the bowl as Geralt kicked off his shoes. It was stupid, everything was dumb. Jaskier wanted to pump him full of water, he just wanted to forget. Why there was even a need to talk when they both wanted the same thing, it was really petty and controlling. Not even in a fun way. If Geralt had wanted this level of attention to detail, he would go figure out his taxes or something.

“Hey-”Jaskier cut his warm greeting off and his face scrunched up as he caught sight of Geralt. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.” He didn’t expect to be gathered up in strong arms and pulled into a hug that squeezed just the right amount to not fight against but know there was no escaping.

“Well, want to tell me about this ‘nothing’?”

Geralt growled into the crook of Jaskier’s neck. If his boyfriend thought that a simple hug could dispel all his woes, he was terribly wrong and maybe even a little stupid. As if touch could make the frustrations and thoughts go away. Distantly in Geralt’s mind a little voice piped up that it was exactly what he had been wanting so yes, touch could melt through his swirling emotions. The realisation brought him up short and Geralt allowed his attention to briefly move from his raging thoughts to the present, of Jaskier holding him close. Infuriatingly, it was nice. Just as the injustice of being proven wrong was about to start his agitation anew, Geralt was released.

“Someone asked a really stupid question.” Except it hadn’t been a dumb question. Only Geralt was the idiot in the situation for not having a concrete answer.

Humming, Jaskier nodded as he took in Geralt’s answer. “So a stupid question has put you in a funk. What was so stupid about it?”

Nothing about what the question was, who asked it, whether maybe it was Geralt who was being the idiot. Even worse, Geralt didn’t have an answer. Well, not one that would make sense. Nervously, he rubbed a foot against his ankle, pushing the charms of the anklet into his skin for reassurance.

“Why you.” Geralt ended up mumbling. “She asked why I let you in when I keep everyone else at a distance.”

Obviously Jaskier didn’t understand. He cocked his head to one side and waited for a fuller explanation. It was so much like Renfri that Geralt found himself getting annoyed all over again. But Jaskier waited patiently and maybe that was one of the reasons Geralt had let him in.

“She certainly seems rather interested in things that are quite personal.”

That was one way of putting it. Geralt snorted and shook his head. “She’s paid to be.”

This was it. The moment Geralt had been dreading. The one where Jaskier found out he’d been going to therapy and was going to pass judgement whether it was worth it or not. He hadn’t said anything so Geralt assumed maybe he hadn’t noticed or was too polite to say anything. But if Jaskier’s reaction was going to be stunned shock, it will have been a whole load of wasted money, time and, most importantly, emotional effort.

Obviously Jaskier didn’t understand but he wasn’t pushing which was just as well because Geralt was already on the verge of snapping. Instead, he looked away, clenched his fists and tried to not lash out or run away. He was better than that. Geralt knew better.

“I’m trying. I promise I’m trying.” It came out as a plea, desperate and small. Geralt hung his head, ashamed that he couldn’t even say what he was trying.

“I know love, I can see that. Think you can tell me a bit more?”

“Therapy.” Geralt mumbled it under his breath and he could see Jaskier crane his neck to catch the word, frowning and mouthing it back before his face fell smooth in surprise.

“Oh! Oh Geralt!” Suddenly Geralt was being scooped up into a hug. “I had wondered but didn’t want to ask.”

Maybe it was making a difference then. All the worries of Jaskier being offended for not being allowed to help melted away as Geralt was embraced tightly. Hesitantly, Geralt wrapped his own arms around Jaskier and patted his back. It had the probably desired effect of Jaskier pulling away, giving Geralt some breathing room.

“Sorry.” Jaskier cleared his throat. “I’m just so proud of you.” He was obviously trying to put pieces together and forming some kind of theory. His face fell into a stunned look of realisation. “The stickers! That’s what they’re for!”

For someone so bright, Jaskier sure could be dense at times, Geralt thought. It wasn’t like he went to the dentist every week and got a sticker from there. In fact, there weren’t many things Geralt could think of that he did weekly. Maybe shopping. But the checkouts didn’t dole out stickers there either. Not to adults anyway.

The question of “so you got asked a question that annoyed you. Did she know it hit a nerve?” pulled Geralt from his musings. He hummed in agreement. Since his big, ugly secret was out, there was no harm in discussing it with Jaskier more openly. If he could muster up the courage for it. 

“I think she did.” Geralt hesitated. “I mean, the sticker is quite creased.”

They were still dancing around the question Renfri had asked and Geralt wasn’t certain he wanted to answer it. He was still pissed off about it but it was superseded by the relief of Jaskier’s reaction to discovering he had been trying therapy.

“Can’t we just celebrate by shoving water up my arse?” he asked and it drew a bark of a laugh from Jaskier.

“Nope. That wasn’t the plan for today anyway. We were going to talk about it and plan but nothing else. But-” Jaskier gave Geralt a good look over, “-I think I’d rather chat this question through instead. We can talk scenes another day.”

It was so tempting to kick up a fuss. They had been doing this kind of thing long enough and Geralt was tired of the formality. As he had established in himself already, and as Renfri had pointed out, he trusted Jaskier.

“What if I want to do it now though?”

“And what if I don’t?” It was a gentle enough rebuttal that had Geralt backing down. Long gone were the days where they took what they wanted from a scene and each other without much consideration for the other. Well, at least Geralt was, he wasn’t certain Jaskier ever actually did that. His attention was drawn back by Jaskier. “Why don’t we break down the question, hm? What did your therapist ask you?”

“She asked why I love you. And why I let you past my defences.”

“Okay. So...why?” Geralt still didn’t have the answer. “Well, this isn’t a topic to broach over an empty stomach. Why don’t we mull it over some pie?”

They migrated to the dinner table and Jaskier pulled pies from the over for them. Over food, they continued the gentle dissection of Geralt’s frustrations and lack of answer to the question.

“So-” Jaskier started, “It might be about trust. It has taken some time to build up - which is pretty normal by the way.”

“Yeah…”

“ Was there a moment? When you knew? maybe there isn’t one key moment that would be the answer to it.”

Which made a lot of sense to Geralt. Because there weren’t many large moments in their relationship that he could really remember. The incident with the cane, the moment in the club but those didn’t explain why Jaskier. It was a buildup of smaller things, maybe. All the times Jaskier was just...just right.

“You push,” he said hesitantly, eyes fixed on how his fork sank into his pie. “But you don’t.”

“Okay.” 

Jaskier’s ready acceptance was reassuring, and Geralt continued. “You never asked for more than I could give.” Which was much like his friends, they let Geralt have his secrets, his moods and they didn’t pry. There was a key difference though. “You didn’t put up with my bullshit, and called me out.” Which was something Lambert and Eskel only did in the most peripheral of ways.

That did draw a small smile from Jaskier. “That I did.”

“You stuck by me even when things got difficult. You-” here Geralt cut off and looked up at Jaskier for a moment, eyes round before hastily averting his gaze again. “You wanted me for who I am, not what I could do for you.”

There it was. The answer Geralt hadn’t been able to give Renfri right away. But he could tell her next week and he would do it proudly. A hand drifted into his vision, palm up in an offer and a request. Small smile making the corner of his lips tick up, Geralt took the hand and looked up. Opposite him, Jaskier’s smile was filled with pride and, despite all the frustrations and anxiety, Geralt didn’t think he could ask for anything better.

From the table they migrated onto the sofa, Geralt tucked gently against Jaskier’s chest. Being able to listen to the steady thump of his heart lulled Geralt into a haze. Not quite asleep but not exactly awake either, it was the realm where he could think freely without his usual walls. To finally have, in words, the answer to Renfri’s question was liberating. It wasn’t just because Geralt hated not having an answer to something but also because it helped him know what he was feeling. Before, without the words, Geralt had worried that it was all an intangible mess that a gust of wind could scatter. Now though, he had a newfound certainty and confidence. What he and Jaskier had was real and could be defined. It was a heady relief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is talk of inflation play but nothing kinky actually happens in this chapter.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's finally true submission. And one last encounter to put old ghosts to rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for kinks in the end notes.
> 
> Huge thanks to hubblegleeflower for their beta work! They are a real life saver and need a medal.

A thrum of excitement pulsed through Geralt as he arrived home. Jaskier’s car was parked in the road. They had agreed on it in advance, but to have someone to come home to was something Geralt couldn’t imagine ever getting tired of. 

All day he had followed the plan he and Jaskier had come up with. It felt good to be doing something they had agreed on, including the weekly grocery shop. It also gave Jaskier the chance to go in and get set up. Because while Geralt knew the overarching plan of their scene, he had asked Jaskier if they could keep it a little less scripted. So while Geralt knew that water would be involved and it would all happen in his bathroom, he still had no idea just exactly how Jaskier planned to fill him up. The mystery of it only fuelled his anticipation.

Stepping into the house, Jaskier was out of sight but Geralt could hear him singing as he prepared. Halfway through Geralt putting away the groceries, a pair of arms wrapped around his waist and kisses were pressed to his jaw and below his ear.

“You’re looking extra ravishing today,” Jaskier purred.

“I’m just putting shopping away. It’s very mundane.”

“Well maybe I find your mundane super sexy. Can I tempt you to leave everything as is and entice you into stripping on your way to the bathroom?”

Most of the shopping for the fridge and freezer was already snugly tucked away. Yet Geralt couldn’t leave a job half done. Especially not when he knew what was to come and how they would both be even less inclined to get back into the kitchen to put things away.

“No.” He kept moving even as Jaskier firmly attached himself to his back. Not the most helpful or productive move. It only got worse when warm hands sneaked under his t-shirt. To say it was distracting was an understatement.

Thankfully Jaskier didn’t pester. Instead, he made the task more interesting, well, those were the words he used before putting the final jar in the cupboard with a flourish and kicking the bags into a pile.

“Now?” he asked eagerly.

“Now.”

Jaskier took Geralt’s hand in his and led him to the bathroom which he had set up in the afternoon. Walking in, Geralt was already at ease. There were a few cushions and pillows along with the throw from the sofa spread on the floor. It looked almost cosy.

“How do you want me?” he asked, straight to the point, t-shirt halfway over his head. An extra pair of hands helped ease his top off and Jaskier stood close, grinning.

A murmur of “like this” was not very helpful but it didn’t matter when Geralt was being pulled in for a soft, slow kiss. It was nothing like what he expected but so very welcome. Kissing back, Geralt temporarily forgot just what they were about to do, far too content to let his boyfriend lick between his lips and nip playfully when things got complacent. It took Geralt a moment to realise his jeans were being unbuttoned and pushed down. He stepped out of them and was surprised when Jaskier shucked off his own clothes. His raised eyebrow got a smiling reply.

“Water has a tendency to get everywhere. Soaked jeans are not as sexy as they sound.” Which explained why Geralt could feel towels under the throw, ready to soak up any spills. Not that he had thought there would be any. But it was better to be cautious rather than break the mood. Maybe Jaskier thought he’d get excited and spill something.

Once they were both naked, Geralt allowed himself to be guided onto his back, the throw surprisingly soft against his skin. If it had been the towels, he would have been squirming a few minutes in, finding the coarse material not only distracting but also uncomfortable. It seemed Jaskier had thought of everything.

Rather than diving straight in, Geralt hummed happily as the kisses continued. He let his hands drift down Jaskier’s back, fingers brushing lightly over skin before settling firmly on narrow hips. It was all too easy to tug Jaskier until he was straddling Geralt, their chests pressed together. Under such thoughtful treatment Geralt was slowly getting hard, cock filling out against Jaskier’s thigh.

“Soon,” Jaskier promised. “Want to take you apart piece by piece.”

Who was Geralt to argue with a promise like that? He relaxed into the throw and tipped his head back as Jaskier kissed down his neck and across his chest. Shifting around, Jaskier settled to straddle one of Geralt’s thighs and his hand traced a random pattern over skin until it reached for some lube set to the side. Just one finger was slicked up and it traced over Geralt’s hole. Greedily, he pushed down against it, wanting more already.

“Easy,” Jaskier chided warmly. “Don’t want to open you up too much.”

Nodding, Geralt tried to be patient. The single finger didn’t feel like much, especially when Jaskier seemed more interested in getting Geralt more slippery slick than a freshly sucked egg. Doing his best, he tried to relax back and empty his mind which wasn’t all that successful to start with, all he could think of was how slick everything felt. It was nice, in its own way but not at all what Geralt had been expecting.

“Okay, going to start now.” It seemed that Jaskier was finally satisfied. A thrum of hot anticipation flushed through Geralt and he opened his eyes to watch Jaskier pick up a curious shaped bulb. A small squirt of water was squeezed onto the inside of his wrist before Jaskier looked up at Geralt with an enthusiastic grin. “Ready?”

“Get on with it.”

The nozzle of the bulb was slicked up with lube and slipped in with no resistance. Slowly, Jaskier squeezed on the bulb. To say it was strange was an understatement. Not sexy but the way Jaskier seemed entranced was absolutely worth it.

“More.” It was a demand but also a reassurance. Geralt wanted Jaskier to keep going. With the same fastidious care, Jaskier filled the bulb, tested the temperature, added more lube and Geralt watched, enjoying the methodical nature of Jaskier’s actions. As the nozzle slid back in, his eyes closed again. This time, he could feel the water more, not quite a pressure in his gut but it was there.

A hand stroked over his stomach and it drew a soft smile from Geralt. While it wasn’t sexy, he appreciated the touch and reached to briefly link their fingers together, giving out a pleased hum. “I want more.”

“In a moment. Let me enjoy this.”

The gentle touches continued and Geralt allowed himself to sink into the intimacy. He nodded with a “yes please” when Jaskier asked if he really did want more. The third bulbful was definitely more felt, a certain tightness but clever fingers massaged away any discomfort and Geralt was allowed to sink back into that mindless moment. He could do it because Jaskier had him, was cradling him in a way Geralt could just let go and trust that he wouldn’t be dropped.

“You’re beautiful like this,” Jaskier’s voice was whisper soft and his hand never stopped touching Geralt, running over his stomach and thighs. “Taking it so well.”

The praise had Geralt smiling a little. He liked making Jaskier happy. Settling back, Geralt allowed himself to drift. He was aware of his body and how it was coursing with lazy pleasure already, feeling heavy yet light, distant but each little brush of Jaskier’s hand against his skin grounding while at the same time lifting him higher. “More?”

“Whatever my dearest asks for.”

Even with his eyes closed, Geralt never lost Jaskier. No matter what was happening, there was always a touch, be it a leg pressed against Geralt’s or a hand on his stomach. Jaskier was there, tethering while keeping Geralt flying.

“This might leak a little, that’s absolutely normal.” Usually, Geralt would have considered the suggestion ridiculous, he wasn’t going to leak anything, he was better than that. But the way Jaskier said it, stroking over Geralt’s thigh, it made it seem not just okay but also perfectly natural. Sure enough, as the nozzle was pulled out, a bit of warm water trickled after it and Geralt whined high in his throat, back arching. Immediately, a hand was soothing him back down, a slick finger rubbing over his hole, helping Geralt forget about anything but the touches.

Eyes opening, Geralt stared sightlessly at the ceiling, revelling in the touch. The hint of cramps Jaskier had warned him about were just at the periphery of his awareness but before they could take hold, comforting hands were rubbing them away. Forcing himself to focus, Geralt tipped his head to smile at Jaskier.

“Another?”

At some point Geralt had gotten hard and he hadn’t really realised it. Everything felt good, he wanted to please Jaskier and wanted Jaskier to make him feel good too. His question had Jaskier leaning over to give him a deep kiss.

“Last one. You’ve done so beautifully.” Jaskier hovered over him, smiling and Geralt couldn’t do anything but stare back with wide eyes. “I’m so proud of you.”

As Jaskier prepared the final bulb of water, he kept a hand on Geralt’s leg, rubbing over the anklet. The nozzle slipped in with a newfound familiarity and Geralt sighed as, ever so slowly, Jaskier pressed down. The tightness increased, especially when Jaskier’s other hand pressed ever so lightly on Geralt’s stomach. He moaned, a garbled “stay” was hopefully enough for Jaskier to leave the nozzle in and to keep pressing on his stomach. Glancing down, Geralt noted how his stomach was just slightly curved out under Jaskier’s palm and he let out a small, satisfied noise from the back of his throat. The pleasure wasn’t like any other before, a slow, all consuming thing that crept over him. Around him, the world fell away into a distant haze, all that was left was Jaskier, his touch, his warmth and the knowledge that Geralt was his in every way. He didn’t even realise the nozzle was pulled out until Jaskier was nudging his legs a little wider to kneel between them, his cock hard in his hand.

“Gorgeous,” Jaskier purred. “Took it so well.”

His hand started to move and Geralt lay back to watch, enraptured by how stunning Jaskier looked, kneeling above him, one hand still stroking over Geralt’s stomach. It didn’t take long before come splashed over his skin and he smiled proudly, knowing he was the one to get Jaskier so worked up.

As Jaskier panted, looking over him with heavy lidded eyes, Geralt reached for him, needed him close. Easily, Jaskier leaned down, pressing their chests together, kissing Geralt, licking between his lips. It wasn’t the usual nipping and playful kiss, this was something more and Geralt could feel the pleasure pulling at him, building until his whole body felt alight, thrumming under his skin.

“Oh fuck.” Jaskier was the one to pull away, giving them room to breath while Geralt writhed under him, feeling good all over. “Did you just-?”

Moaning, Geralt closed his eyes, trembling as he gave himself over to the aftermath of the onslaught. He floated, a loose pile of limbs while hands stroked his face and murmured soft reassurances in his ear between kisses dotted randomly over his face. Slowly, Geralt came back to himself, grunted a little in discomfort, mortified to find the throws under him soaked. Before he could grumble, Jaskier was leaving a peck on his lips and helping him roll off the wet patch. It was also the moment Geralt realised his stomach had been wiped clean.

“How are you feeling?”

Taking a moment to assess, Geralt found he had only one answer. “Good.”

Another kiss to the shoulder was his reward. They took it slow, Jaskier helping Geralt sit up, wrapping a clean blanket around him. He even graciously left the room when the remaining water suddenly made itself known to Geralt with swift urgency. They ended up cuddled in bed, freshly washed, fed and feeling very loved up.

“I want to go to the club again,” Geralt spoke up in the silence, his chest against Jaskier’s back.

“To play?”

Geralt shook his head. He couldn’t quite put it into words. It felt right, to go back to where it had all started. Wanting to experience the place as part of a happy couple. To bask in the trust and comfort Jaskier brought him. Maybe, a little bit of Geralt wanted others to see it too, to look at them and be a little jealous.

“Okay. We’ll go when you’ve next got an evening off.” As simple as that. Geralt loved Jaskier for his easygoing agreement.

Wednesday night was when they finally got to make their way over. They got ready together at Geralt’s house. Jaskier fussed over their clothes. He was in a teal shirt that glimmered in the light while Geralt was in his customary black. But his trousers were tight, comfortable yet showing off his “finer points” as Jaskier put it. Geralt let himself be preened a bit but eventually shrugged Jaskier off. He was going there for a good time, not to look pretty.

Getting into Jaskier’s car, he watched the world flit by, anticipation brewing in his stomach. They hadn’t said they would do anything at the club, just have a quiet drink and enjoy themselves. At the club, Jaskiers happily waved off the offer of wristbands and Geralt’s heart jolted in happiness. He was Jaskier’s as much as Jaskier was his.

To start with they ordered drinks and sat at the bar, watching the comings and goings of everyone around them. It was fun, especially when they could point out potential matches and a game of inventing backstories for those around them. Jaskier excelled at it.

“Now he,” he nodded in the direction of a plump, blond man, “he looked like he sells secondhand books. But the upmarket kind.”

Looking at the man in question, Geralt had to agree. “His partner though she looks like a personal trainer from hell.”

It had Jaskier snickering before his attention was taken by someone else. “Oooh! An accountant and a taxidermist?”

“Nah, I don’t think you could spot a taxidermist. A chugger on the other hand…” Geralt trailed off and Jaskier laughed.

“I’m afraid you’re wrong. I cheated here because I know Valdo and he is a taxidermist. I’ll have to tell him you thought he looked like a chugger though. That is priceless.”

They giggled into their drinks and Jaskier emptied his. Geralt followed suit, looking at his boyfriend with an uptick of his lips.

“Will you kneel for me?” Jaskier turned hopeful eyes to Geralt.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

They didn’t take one of the out of the way armchairs. Nor the ones in the middle of the room. Somewhat discreet, not centre stage but not completely private either. Jaskier pulled a cushion up for Geralt and settled back in his seat. Once Geralt was sure Jaskier was comfortable, he sank down to his knees and leaned his cheek against a familiar thigh. Fingers carded through his hair and he relaxed, enjoying the quiet and the silence of his mind.

The first sign that something wasn’t right was Jaskier’s thigh tensing under his cheek. Geralt shifted a little but the fingers stroked more firmly, soothing him. If that had been it, Geralt would have let it go. However, a familiar voice spoke.

“Geralt. How lovely to see you here.”

Eyes springing open, Geralt knelt up from where he had been slouching against Jaskier. “Yennefer,” he breathed. Next to him, Jaskier was a solid wall of tension.

“I didn’t think you could look like that.” Her voice was still polite, cool, just as he remembered. Only now, Geralt heard a detachment in it too - she sounded like she always had and yet there were echoes of discomfort, of someone not quite at ease with their place in the world. It was a new quality Geralt hadn’t noticed before.

“Like what?”

“Serene.”

Jaskier cleared his throat and Geralt looked up at him. “Jask, this is Yennefer. Yen, this is Jaskier, my boyfriend.”

She looked at Geralt, then at Jaskier, and she held his eyes for a moment longer. Something akin to a smile ghosted over Yennefer’s lips as she nodded at Jaskier. “I won’t interrupt your evening. Good to see you again, Geralt.”

With that, they were left alone again and Jaskier was tugging Geralt up into his lap, wrapping his arms tightly around him. Not understanding, Geralt allowed it.

“That was her, wasn’t it?” Jaskier growled, not waiting for a reply. “There’s so much I want to say to her but we’d get banned from here for causing the wrong kind of scene.”

Geralt shrugged. To him, it was all in the past. Renfri had told him that remembering what had gone on was okay but ruminating wasn’t healthy. The past couldn’t be changed but the future was something that was in his power to shape. So Geralt let Jaskier hold him, coddle him. He gave a final glance over his shoulder to watch Yennefer leave, only to catch her looking at them as she glimpsed back. She seemed perturbed, as if unable to believe what she was seeing. Maybe Geralt, happy and content, wasn’t something she had actually ever seen before. Idly, Geralt wondered whether she had any regrets or wishes that she’d made different choices. He found he didn’t actually much care. But that was okay, they had shared a past but Geralt didn’t want to share a future with Yennefer. The future was for Jaskier. Winding his arms around his boyfriend, Geralt held him too, curling together, feeling like two halves of one whole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kinks in this chapter: inflation play.
> 
> The last chapter is some incredible art by ThirstyOpossum on Twitter.
> 
> I can't believe we're at the end of this story. A huge thank you to all of you who have commented, been so kind and generous with your words. I know I don't always have the bravery to reply but know that I have read every single comment at least twice and sometimes even teared up at them.
> 
> And one final shout out to hubblegleeflower for all the time and effort they put into helping beta this. Without them, this story wouldn't be even half the thing it turned out to be.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Art by the amazing ThirstyOpossum for Chapter 9 - https://twitter.com/ThirstyOpossum/status/1274366778894954496?s=20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://twitter.com/ThirstyOpossum/status/1274366778894954496?s=20
> 
> Be sure to give ThirstyOpossum all the praise their incredible art deserves. They are such a talented artist and I am so very lucky to have met them in this fandom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://twitter.com/ThirstyOpossum/status/1274366778894954496?s=20

**Author's Note:**

> You can always come yell at me on tumblr too - @jaskiersvalley


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